The Metamorphoses
by Tricia dSC
Summary: They all say change is inevitable, and so were they. A series of one-shots about Chuck and Blair's future, from the perspective of those around them. Rated for future chapters.
1. Static State, or Di sotto in su

**AN**: [Aug.28.10] I did some light editing to this chapter, so I hope that it flows a little bit better. Please review.

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**Chapter One: Static state, or Di sotto in su**

"Things do not change; we change." - Henry David Thoreau

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_Sunday, October 7, 2029_

She never really thought about her time at Constance Billard School for Girls. Why would she want to? All the drama and problems that month and a half had caused led her to turn away from the Upper East Side and to never look back. She moved to Ithaca, but after a while she had realized that as traumatic as her experience was, she missed living in the city. She missed the constant buzz of human life, and so after five years she came back when she got a job at The Fieldston School in the Bronx.

Despite the painful memories she spent the weekends in Manhattan, and wandered around the tourist hot spots and rediscovering places long forgotten. As a side job she tutored students from various private schools, and it was only recently that she was hired as a tutor for a group of sophomore girls who attended Constance Billard. The first tutoring session brought her back to the courtyard of the brick prep school, and facing a group of unimpressed teenagers covered in designer clothing.

_Just like old times_, she though dryly.

She introduced herself as Rachel Martin (she had decided to keep her ex-husband's last name), and tried to get down to business but found it difficult when the girls were just so apathetic. She understood that their parents were the ones who had hired her, and that all five of them were probably thinking about ways to melt the magnetic stripe off of their black cards with overuse, but she was determined to teach them about the impact Shakespeare had on their culture.

It was now their third week of tutoring, and if she was being honest with herself, she would have to say that there was minimal improvement. Clarice Edwards, the leader of the pack, was currently picking lint off her coat while the twins Diana and Delilah Evans were adding a fifth layer of lip gloss. Kossandra Argenti had out-right fallen asleep on her copy of 'Twelfth Night', and Winifred Ostergard was writing the name of a St. Jude's boy over and over again on her lavender notebook.

"Please, girls, let's try to get something done today. If we…"

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

The rich, mocking female voice must have been very familiar with the girls because they all immediately snapped to attention. Looking behind her, Rachel watched as a beautiful blonde girl approach them. All the shopping bags that the girl carried didn't diminish her arrogant swagger as she got closer to the table, and she noticed that her students were looking more-and-more agitated.

"Morning, Eve." Clarice said with a forced smile.

The blonde girl didn't reply, instead she put her bags on the ground and grabbed the brunette's notebook. She quirked an eyebrow at the content of the notebooks pages before tossing it back to her.

"You all need help in _Shakespeare_?"

It was a rhetorical question, and the snide tone didn't go unmissed. Rachel couldn't believe what she was seeing, it was like she was transported back twenty years.

This girl, Eve, was obviously the true leader of the pack. She looked down on all the girls with bright blue eyes which were framed in an exotic shape and thick, black eyelashes. Her long blonde hair tumbled onto her shoulders in perfect curls, and her full lips were set in a devilish smirk.

Rachel decided to break the silence.

"Hello, my name's Rachel Martin, and I'm the tutor for your friends." she said as she stood and extended her hand.

Eve was noticeably taller than she, and she didn't make any motion to shake her hand. Instead, Eve chose to cross her arms and lean her weight on one high-heeled leg.

_God, why me?_ Rachel thought as she put her hand down and sat back down. She was close to her breaking point in tolerating the spoiled princesses of the UES before the blonde came along, and now she felt herself teetering over the edge with dislike.

"My name is Evangeline, and I think you're fighting a lost cause." she said bluntly, that patronizing smirk still on her face.

_Christ, the gall of these people._

"What are you doing here, Eve?" Clarice asked, trying to find a way to get the intimidating girl to leave.

"I was shopping with the siblings. Maman and Papa are out for their vacation, and Tristan and I thought it would be nice to take Bea and Isaac out." Eve replied with a quick glance behind her.

Rachel looked at what Eve glanced back at and found three people standing by the gate to the school. A tall brunet boy was leaning against the brick wall while he carried a small boy of about three. He was looking at the group of girls with the same pompous expression as Eve, and Rachel could see the glint of superiority in his sky blue eyes from her place on the stone bench.

Next to him was a young girl with long dark brown hair and dark eyes, which contrasted sharply against her pale skin. She didn't have an arrogant expression like the older boy, but she was looking impatient. She stood with her arms crossed and tapping one foot, surrounded by the purchases made from the fashion houses along fifth avenue.

The small boy that was being held let out a joyful giggle before squirming, and when the older boy put him down, he ran around the courtyard laughing in his tiny pressed trousers and matching button down, tripping occasionally on the uneven stone floor.

"I just came over to see what you all were doing here. I mean, you five have a difficult time as it is going to school on the weekdays, so imagine my surprise when I saw you here on a _weekend_."

Diana and Delilah each gave a hesitant giggle in response, while the other three looked as if they were biting their tongues.

"Daddy said Di and I can't go shopping unless we go to tutoring, Eve. You know how it is." Delilah said.

The comment made the beautiful girl frown.

"Actually, I don't. You know I have the perfect GPA."

With that, Delilah blushed a bright pink, and she lowered her head to partially cover her face with her dark red hair.

"Anyways, I also wanted to inform you five that the annual costume party is on. Tristan and I decided that school night be damned, it's going to be on the thirty-first. The theme is Versailles and the eighteenth century French Court. Invitations will be out by next Tuesday."

Rachel had never seen the girls look so enthusiastic about anything else before. Immediately Kossandra and Diana began whispering about where to get their costumes, and Clarice looked as if she had just found out that she was given full access to Tamara Mellon's shoe collection.

"We can't wait, Eve, really. Your Halloween party is always one of the highlights of the year." Winifred said as she began to bounce in her seat from excitement.

"Evangeline, êtes-vous fait? Isaac veut aller au zoo d'enfants." a deep voice said from behind Eve.

It was then that Rachel realized that the group of three had made their way to them and were now standing right behind the tall blonde. Looking up at them, Rachel noticed how beautiful they all were. Sure, she had noticed how good looking they were from their position by the brick wall, but up close they all looked like models. _I'm sure anyone can look better when they're clothed in custom Dolce, _she thought. Clarice looked as if she was going to faint from just looking at the tall boy, and Rachel was sure that that just fed his ego.

Glancing at the brunette girl, she was suddenly struck with the mental image of the worst student she had ever had. Up close the pre-teen's dark brown eyes and vibrant pink lips, framed by chocolate brown curls, made her look like a younger version of Blair Waldorf.

"Oui, je fini." Eve said before picking up her shopping bags and walking away with the others.

"Au revoir mes esclaves!" she called back to them as they passed the gate and disappeared from sight.

Immediately after they left her five students burst into conversation about the upcoming party. At this point she realized it was a lost cause and resigned to her curiosity about the group that just left.

"So, who were they?" Simple enough.

The girls stopped and looked at her in disbelief.

"Those were the Basses of course. Only the richest people under eighteen in the city… if not the continent." Clarice said.

"And your friend Eve… she's the oldest?"

"Oh no! Her brother Tristan is; he's a junior at St. Jude's. Isn't he scrumptious? I just melt whenever he speaks French."

"Eve is a sophomore like us, and she already _owns_ the school." Diana said.

"And all of them speak French. The family used to live there, before Constance was born."

"I heard they named her that because Mr. and Mrs. Bass got it on in the Headmaster's office during their ten year reunion." Winifred said in a scandalized whisper.

Listening to the girls go on a round-robin of gossip laced with sycophantic adoration, Rachel now realized why the girls put up with Eve's abuse. They loved what Evangeline represented: beauty, brains and more money than God, and being seen in her presence bolstered their own reputations. She remembered Blair Waldorf's group of minions, but they couldn't really compare to these girls. She had a feeling that Clarice would give her right arm if it meant being in good favor with Eve (and her brother), and she knew that none of them would rat her out like Nelly Yuki had done to Blair.

"Did you know that I used to teach here?" Rachel asked, finally reinserting herself back into the conversation. She wanted to find out if her hunch about Constance Bass was correct, and she was going to wheedle it out of them.

"When? Did you know Mr. and Mrs. Bass when they went here?"

"Well I don't exactly remember the last name Bass. I may not have had him as a student. What was Mrs. Bass's maiden name?"

"Waldorf." All five of them answered simultaneously.

"As in _Blair_ Waldorf?"

"As if there is any other Waldorf who matters."

Damn her and her curiosity.

"Well then yes, I did know her." she answered. It had been twenty years, but the memory of that brat's smug smile still made her angry.

The ringing of a phone interrupted her train of thought and Rachel watched as Clarice jumped off the stone bench to answer her phone. Less than two minutes later she hung up and began to gather her things.

"I have to go. Eve just called, and I need to pick up Isaac's bear from their house and bring it to them."

The girl scurried away before Rachel could stop her. Sighing, she realized that the remaining girls were too distracted to ever get anything done.

"All of you can go, too. We'll just continue this next week."

Four hours later found Rachel wandering around Central Park. She had been lost in thought and had run the day's earlier events over-and-over in her head. She couldn't believe that Blair Waldorf was a mother, much less a mother to four children. In her mind the manipulative girl she knew years ago was still that: a girl. Now she had her own daughters that seemed to be quickly becoming a new version of the same model. If Eve hadn't looked so different, Rachel would have picked up on the similar attitudes (who would forget the iron grip Blair had on every situation surrounding her?), but as it was, Evangeline Bass looked more like Serena van der Woodsen's daughter than Blair Bass's.

As she neared the Met she caught sight of the familiar little brown haired boy as he ran around the first landing of the steps. He had in his left hand a large white polar bear and a bag of green cotton candy in his right. The girl who Rachel thought was a clone of her mother stood close by, laughing at her younger brother's antics. Sitting side-by-side on the top of the steps were Eve and Tristan, who were talking quietly while keeping an eye out on both children.

_They almost look like normal kids_, she thought.

It was then that a gaggle of girls walked by them, and slowed down when they caught sight of Tristan. An angry frown marred Eve's face and she quickly approached the group. Rachel watched as Eve confronted the girls, as Constance watched from where she stood. _There's nothing like learning from example_. Whatever Eve said had worked because soon enough the group of girls all sported scandalized looks, and Evangeline returned to her seat next to her highly amused brother. Rachel could almost feel the waves of superiority radiating from them as they looked down on everyone else from their place on the steps.

_Nothing ever really changes, does it?_


	2. Muss es sein?

**AN**: Wow, sorry for the long wait, I couldn't seem to get this chapter out the way I wanted to. I hope you all enjoy.

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**Chapter Two: Muss es sein?**

"Not even one's own pain weights so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes." - Milan Kundera, _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_

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_Saturday, July 13, 2013_

When I had first found out that my daughter had been having _relations _with the Bass boy, I had been absolutely shocked. As far as I knew, she was in a serious relationship with Nathanial Archibald. Of course I was aware of the minor break ups they went through in their last two years of high school, but I was _not_ prepared to see my daughter pressed up against the penthouse elevator by that degenerate the morning after their senior year ball. Blair had told me that she and Charles had had a quasi-relationship since before she turned seventeen, and it was only then that they were finally making it official.

I had plenty of reasons to doubt the durability of their relationship, but after two years of steady dating, Charles Bartholomew Bass had finally proven to be moderately acceptable for my Blair. He had proposed to her on the night of her twenty-first birthday party, and she had nearly given me a heart attack when she said yes and pounced on him. The other society ladies hadn't seemed to mind, evidently the sight of two young adults nearly devouring one another didn't matter so long as they were the future leaders of the Upper East Side.

Being the caring mother that I am, I of course helped Blair plan her dream wedding. I had drawn her five possible wedding gowns, but she said none of them were her ideal dress so she had sketched it herself. I had to admit that it was a beautiful dress; the tight, shapely bodice was rouched at the bust, and there were thin bands of Swarovski crystal underneath the bust, around the waist, and at the hem that matched the crystal covered shoulder straps. It was to be made of white silk chiffon, and the skirt flowed down to the floor where it created a short train. I told her I would make it by hand, my first born deserved a couture piece for her wedding.

The rest of the details eventually sorted themselves out. Serena was the Maid of Honor, Nathaniel Archibald was the Best Man, and my little Yale was the flower girl. All of Blair's little high school friends jumped at the chance at being a bridesmaid, and Aaron and Eric van der Woodsen were the groomsmen. Blair's bouquet had consisted of white alstromeria, aster, azalea, and pear blossom, mixed with red roses, and Charles had gotten in touch with the Dolce and Gabbana headquarters in Milan and had his suit fitted. They were married on Saturday, September 8, 2012 at the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine.

Everything went according to plan, and my Blair had never looked more radiant. The reception was held in Gotham Hall, and the crème de la crème of New York society celebrated the night away.

My first grandchild was born in the early morning hours of Sunday, February 3, 2013. I had been shocked when I found out that Blair was pregnant, after all, she was still in school! When she had told me that the baby would be born four months before she and Chuck graduated from NYU, I threw a fit. Yet, like many other things in Blair's life, there was nothing I could do about it.

When I first saw my grandson I had to admit that he was a very handsome baby. He had the same shade of milk chocolate brown hair as his father, and his paternal grandfather's cornflower blue eyes. I had never seen my daughter look so humbled then when she was holding her child and watching him sleep. Cyrus had commented that he was a sweet baby, and Yale had fallen in love with him. She constantly begged to sleep over at her sister's home just so she could play with little Tristan, and I let her, until we all found out what an irritable baby Tristan is.

"He takes after his father." Blair would tell me whenever I held the boy.

Knowing Charles, I was certain that he _would _burst out into a screaming, wiggling fit if I tried to hold him.

* * *

"Call us everyday, you know how Tristan loves hearing your voice as he goes to sleep." my daughter said as she clutched the lapel of her husband's coat.

He nodded in compliance before giving her a fierce kiss. It was only the mewling of their son that caused Charles to break away, and he quickly laid a gentle kiss onto the boy's forehead.

"You be good, Tristan. For the love of God, don't cry _too_ much." he teased as he wiggled a finger beneath the baby's chin, causing him to giggle.

Charles was going away for a two week business trip to Bern, Switzerland, and it was going to be the first time the family was to be separated for more than two days. Somewhere inside I felt a tug of jealousy as I watched my daughter see her husband off to the limo. Harold hadn't been that attentive to _me_ before he left for his business trips.

_You should be happy your child is happy_.

I waited patiently for Blair to come back to the penthouse, and when she came practically _floating_ with bliss twenty minutes later I knew that they had a minor detour from the elevator to the limo. She took the baby from Dorota and began to hum him a mindless tune.

"Blair, I want to play with Tristan." Yale said as she reached up for the baby.

"I'm sorry, Yale, but he's going to take his nap now. When he wakes up you can play with him."

"But he's not even asleep! Let me play with him!" My younger daughter demanded.

Blair frowned and gave Yale a final 'no' before resuming her humming. Tristan looked like he was almost completely asleep when he suddenly burst into tears.

"Oh, damn it, he's shit his diaper. Dorota! Come clean the baby!" Blair cried as she tried to soothe Tristan before handing him off to our long time maid.

As Dorota took the wailing child she turned back to Blair and motioned for her to follow.

"You come too, Ms. Blair, it's time you learn how to change diaper."

Blair looked reluctant, but after a moment of internal debate she followed. I had to give her credit for that. I am the first to admit that I wasn't willing to change my children's diapers. Really, the smell that infants emit will make your eyes water.

* * *

I went to the Bass penthouse early the next morning with the intention of discussing next seasons designs with Blair. I had just entered the gallery, and was about to call out for Blair, when I heard her speaking to someone somewhere in the living room.

"You know you miss me."

I could tell by the slow, teasing voice that she was talking to Charles. She had always spoken to him like that, ever since they had begun dating. It was like she was constantly trying to seduce him, which seemed ridiculous considering the fact that he was already thoroughly spellbound.

"Yes, well, last night's call was for Tristan… _mostly_."

"_No,_ I will not repeat what I said yesterday. Really Bass, that's what late night phone calls are for."

Enough was enough. I entered the living room to find my daughter still wearing her night gown, and lounging lazily on one of their newly acquired chaises. Upon seeing my look of disapproval, Blair scowled and stood up.

"My mother's here. I'll call you later, and you can continue to whisper mellifluous nothings to me." she said with a slight smirk as she wound their conversation down.

A brief pause later and her smirk melted into a satisfied smile.

"I love you too, Bass." she said before hanging up.

* * *

A week has gone by since Charles had left for his dealings in Switzerland, and I found myself at my daughter's home once again. I had brought Yale with me this time, mostly because she wouldn't stop wailing until she could play with her favorite toy: Tristan. The two of them were currently in the playroom with Dorota, while Blair and I were in the adjoining salon.

It was a strange feeling to realize that my child was now a completely independent person. She no longer needed me to provide anything for her. She lived in a penthouse larger and more lavishly decorated than the one she grew up in, and she was a notable designer in her own right. Conversation between us flowed much more easily now than it ever had before, and I couldn't be happier. We spent the morning talking about the trials of taking care of our children, and while she certainly had more anecdotes than I, Blair had seemed to appreciate my stories of her infancy more.

"Blair, Tristan is crying again!" Yale yelled from the playroom just as the baby's cries increased in volume.

Sighing, she put her cup of coffee down before taking the crying child from Dorota's arms. She slowly made her way around the salon as she cuddled the little boy, whispering to him about how everything was alright. After four rounds around the room, she had finally gotten Tristan to settle down, and now he was staring at his mother with a toothless smile on his face, as if he hadn't been crying for fifteen minutes straight.

"I've never seen a child more prone to crying before, Blair. Even _you_ weren't that finicky." I told her as she sat back down onto her favorite chaise, bouncing the baby in her lap.

She gave me a disapproving look as she coddled her child. She really did hate it when anyone spoke badly of either of her boys.

* * *

It was almost eight thirty in the morning when I got a call from Dorota. She was begging me to come over to the penthouse because Blair was throwing a fit and attempting to destroy all the furniture. In the background I heard something shatter, and Tristan's cries increase in fear.

I dressed quickly and went down to the street to hail a cab.

"Down to 61st." I commanded.

I had never heard Dorota sound so frantic before. In the brief phone call we had, all she was able to tell me was that Blair had received a call about fifteen minutes before hand, and afterwards began angrily throwing the objects nearest to her at the walls while crying hysterically. I practically flew out of the cab once it reached their building. Their penthouse was located on top of a hotel Charles had bought before he and Blair were married, and as I walked through the lobby I heard some guests complaining about noise from the top floor. I quickly made my way to the private elevator, and as I approached the top I could definitely hear the sounds of things being thrown and broken.

It was safe to say that I was not at all prepared for the sight before me. Shattered remains of vases and figurines littered the gallery, as were the remnants of a few of the living room ottomans. I heard my grandchild wailing away in his nursery, but I heard my child wailing even louder.

"Dorota! Take Tristan and go to the apartment. I'll try to calm Blair down." I said.

She nodded quickly before going off into the nursery. I found Blair on the floor in the living room, leaning against one of the chairs, sobbing. All around her there were pieces of broken furniture and shattered picture frames.

"Blair, baby what happened?" I asked as I kneeled down to take her into my arms.

She looked up at me with red, swollen eyes before laying her head on my shoulder. Neither of us said anything, yet she continued to bawl, and I continued to hold her. After what felt like an eternity she began to quiet down, but I could still feel her shaking with tears.

"He's been gone for ten days, and already he's fooling around on me." she whispered.

I couldn't believe my ears. Charles Bass knew better than to cheat on his Blair. Despite all the philandering I knew he had done while in grade school, he had proven that he was a dedicated boyfriend during the time they were in college.

"And with some mystery tramp!" Blair screamed as she ripped herself away from my embrace and flung a portrait of the two of them against the already abused walls.

She continued to vent her rage, and while I cringed at the sight of her home being slowly destroyed, I knew that it was necessary. After a few minutes, Blair's tears had completely disappeared, and anger was the only emotion I saw in her. She had finally stopped the furniture demolition, and now stood stiffly in the center of her living room.

"Are you finished now, dear?" I asked slowly.

She nodded, and went to sit beside me. I held her hand and stroked her disheveled hair as she stared blankly at the floor.

"Will you tell me what happened? How did you find out about Charles's affair?"

She took a deep breath before looking at me with dead eyes.

"I got a call this morning. At about eight o' clock. I had just finished feeding Tristan, when Isabel Coates called me." She began before averting my gaze and looking back at the floor.

"She's touring through Europe right now, and she had been in Switzerland for the past few days. She said she saw Chuck around Bern, and had only realized two nights ago that they were both staying at the Bellevue Palace. She hadn't been able to speak to him because he was always busy, but she saw him last night at the Bellevue Bar. She said she was about to go up to him when she noticed that he was with another woman. They were supposedly having an 'intense looking discussion', and that Chuck was downing scotch like water."

She stopped and took a deep breath.

"Isabel said that she saw the two of them get in an elevator at around one in the morning. I've called him three times since, and he hasn't answered his phone."

I took her back into my arms as I saw her eyes well up with tears, but she didn't shake from them like she had earlier. Instead, she held perfectly still, and I knew that she was trying to numb out the pain.

I couldn't keep in the few tears that clouded my own eyes at the thought of history being repeated. This wasn't supposed to happen to my daughter. She was supposed to be married to the man of her dreams. To a man who would take care of her for the rest of her life… who would make her happy for the rest of her life.

"You're coming home with me." I said.

She looked up at me with a slightly confused expression before I patted her cheek gently.

"You're coming home with me, Blair. I won't allow for you to stay here until he comes back. You still have your room, and we can set up a crib for Tristan in it. You'll be alright." I told her.

She nodded in agreement before removing herself from my embrace. She smoothed down her outfit as she stood, and headed towards the master's bedroom.

"You're right, mother. Call Arthur and get the limo, I'm just going to pack."

* * *

Once we had arrived home, Blair practically jumped out of the vehicle and ran up to the private elevator. She was anxious to get to Tristan, saying that she couldn't believe that she neglected him so badly. The moment the elevator reached the apartment, Blair squeezed through the doors and went to her son. Tristan was only whimpering at this point, Cyrus explained that he had cried for an hour straight before he tired himself out.

Blair took the blotchy-faced little boy into her arms, and coddled him until his whimpers subsided.

"I'm so sorry for forgetting you, baby. It won't ever happen again. Mommy loves you." She whispered to the infant who was looking at her with drowsy eyes.

"Blair, dear, what happened?" Cyrus asked once his grandson had fallen asleep.

My daughter met my gaze, and I knew she didn't want to retell the story of Chuck's affair again.

"She and Charles had an argument, dear. She's decided to stay with us for the time being." I answered, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He looked saddened at the thought of Blair and Charles fighting. He had always had this strange fondness for the boy, saying that he admired Charles's determination, which bordered on tenacity.

"Well I hope that you and Chuck sort this out, Blair. In the mean time, you just relax, and I'll help Dorota set up Tristan's crib." he said happily before kissing me on the cheek and heading upstairs.

A heavy silence filled the room once Cyrus left. Blair shifted in her place on the couch and I reclined on the chaise.

"I don't think we'll ever be able to sort this out." I heard her say quietly.

* * *

Dinner that evening was a pleasant enough affair. We had avoided speaking about the elephant in the room, and Yale dominated the conversation with stories about her adventures during recess.

"And theeenn, I saw Davy Porter hiding behind the playhouse, and I told him that he couldn't hide while playing tag because that would make it hide and seek!" she exclaimed.

Cyrus let out a chuckle as he pat her on the head, and Blair gave her sister a small smile.

"I'm sure he's glad you enlightened him on the difference between the two, dear. Now, finish eating your vegetables." I said.

She gave me a small pout that I'm sure she learned from her sister, but complied.

By the time the crème brûlée was served, conversation had given way to comfortable silence. We were all enjoying the perfectly made desert, even Tristan, who ate a small amount offered to him by Yale, when Blair put down her spoon and cleared her throat.

"I've decided that Tristan and I are going to live with Daddy and Roman for a while."

"_What_?" I asked after the awkward silence.

"I said that Tristan and I are going to stay at Daddy's vineyard. I've already bought the tickets. We're leaving tomorrow morning." She answered before picking up her spoon and continuing to eat her dessert.

"Blair, are you sure you want to do that?" Cyrus asked.

I was to shocked by her announcement to really say anything more. While I knew Blair couldn't stay in their penthouse after her rampage, I couldn't understand why she would want to uproot her whole life and move to Reims.

"Yes, I'm sure Cyrus. I've been meaning to visit, anyhow, and now is a beautiful time to visit. Tristan will love France in the summer time." Blair said pleasantly, and Cyrus nodded his head in understanding.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, I need to get Tristan to bed. We have an early flight tomorrow."

I watched as Blair took my grandson and went upstairs to her bedroom. I glanced at my husband in confusion, and he just shook his head.

"It's okay, Eleanor. She's just taking a small vacation." he said with a smile and a pat on the hand.

"Do you think Blair will get me presents, Daddy?" Yale asked.

"Of course sweetie, I wouldn't be surprised if she came back with a suitcase full of presents for you."

I tuned out the rest of their father-daughter conversation, and I eventually excused myself before heading towards Blair's bedroom.

She was preparing the last of her luggage when I entered her room, and she didn't look a bit surprised by the scowl on my face.

"You can't just run away from this, Blair."

She sighed before putting away an emerald dress.

"I'm not running away, mother. I'm just going to visit Daddy and Roman. I haven't seen them since Tristan was two months old, and now is the perfect time of the year for the little man to see France."

I hated the way she spoke to me; it was as if she was trying to placate a small, petulant child.

"We both know that isn't true, Blair. You're going to go to your father, and when you tell him what happened he's going to make you stay there. You need to confront Charles when he comes back. You need to fix your marriage. You need to stay."

"Besides, you can't just take Tristan and leave. When Charles find out he's going to go after you two."

"He should have known that the moment he cheated on me, he lost all his rights to be in our lives."

By now I could tell that her resolve was weakening. She was taking in shaky breaths, and her hands trembled as if she was trying to contain another emotional outburst.

"Blair, please. He's still Tristan's father, and he deserves to be able to see his child. I let Harold visit after he cheated. At least Charles was with a woman!" I said, trying to lighten the mood, and failing miserably.

Blair sent me a glare and a scowl in response to my poor joke before going back to her packing.

"I've made up my mind, mother. Besides, he'll be able to visit Tristan when he grows up."

As I watched her shut her suitcase, I couldn't help but wonder who she was referring to.

* * *

_Thursday, July 25, 2013_

It was barely two in the morning when I heard the ring of the penthouse elevator and someone walking around downstairs. I quickly put on my dress robe and headed for the stairs to investigate, silver candleholder in hand.

I was only a step out of my room when I heard the footsteps reach the top of the staircase. I raised the candleholder in my hand, preparing to charge at the intruder and beat them senseless, when I heard a familiar voice whisper my daughter's name while knocking softly at her door.

"Blair." Charles said as he tapped the door quietly with his knuckles.

"She's not here." I said as I walked up to him.

He jumped in surprise.

"Then where is she?" He asked, quickly regaining his focus.

I sighed.

"Why are you here, Charles?" I asked although I knew all too well why he was here at two in the morning.

"I need to see to Blair. Eleanor-"

"Mrs. Rose."

"- Mrs. Rose, _please_ tell me where she is. I know that you know where she is."

In all the years I had known Charles Bartholomew Bass, I had never seen him look quite so desperate. While I felt some satisfaction in knowing that it was my daughter that brought out the desperation, I was resolved to caring less for his plight.

"You need to leave, Charles."

He looked furious at my refusal to help. He ran a hand through his hair and slammed his fist against Blair's bedroom door.

"Tell me where she is, Eleanor!"

"Keep your voice down, boy." I commanded with a stern look and a pointed finger.

"Why won't you tell me where they are? I arrived back here an hour ago. When I got to the penthouse the place was trashed. I don't know what's happened to them, but I need to see that she and Tristan are alright."

He looked close to tears at this point, and I felt another twinge of sympathy for him.

"Why do you suddenly care if they're alright? You didn't seem to care two nights ago."

He froze in comprehension before leaning heavily against the wall. He took his head in his hands, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands in frustration.

"How did you find out?" He asked after a few minutes of tortured silence.

"Dorota called when Blair began to hysterically destroy the apartment. I went and consoled her. She told me that Isabel Coates caught you with a mystery woman at the hotel bar." I said emotionlessly.

His fists clenched in anger, and I imagined that it was anger over the fact that he had been caught so easily.

"It was nothing. What happened meant nothing."

I couldn't stop myself. The moment those words were said in that frustratingly calm voice I felt myself jerk in reaction. He touched his assaulted cheek slowly, but didn't say anything. We both knew he deserved it.

"What did happen, and what it meant are two _very_ different things, Charles, and neither of them are 'nothing'. My daughter did _not _nearly lose her mind over _nothing_. She and Tristan did not leave for _nothing_."

"Eleanor? Chuck, is that you? What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to return a few days from now? What's going on?" Cyrus asked as came out of our bedroom, still completely groggy from sleep.

"Nothing is going on, Cyrus, go back to sleep." I said, giving him a slight smile.

He nodded in acceptance before heading back to bed. I turned my attention back to the young man before me. He was no longer leaning against the hallway, but his stiff shoulders and tight jaw showed that he was furious over my earlier comments.

"Before you leave, Blair told me to give you something." I said as I entered my daughter's bedroom.

She had instructed me to give her husband the envelope she left on her vanity, should he come by. I picked it up and dropped it in his outstretched hand, watching as he tore it open and dropped the contents in his hand. The look of devastation on his face was another expression I had never seen on Charles before.

"I guess… I'll just be leaving now." He said quietly as he put the rings in his pocket for safekeeping.

"That would be for the best, Charles. Go home and clean up the mess." I said as I watched him turn and slowly walk down the stairs, shoulders slumped and head lowered.

I shook my head in disgust at the situation, and earlier thoughts resurfaced.

_This shouldn't have happened. He was supposed to be the man of her dreams._

* * *

**AN**: The third chapter is going to be the second half of this little storyline, and it's not going to be in Eleanor's POV. I hope to have it up sooner than it took me to post this chapter.

Please review.


	3. Azalea :part 1:

**AN**: So I couldn't resist. I had a good amount written, and I was really inspired by tonight's episode, which was just too good for words. I'm not the only one who taking some sick satisfaction in thinking of Chuck getting rejected by Blair in next week's episode, right? Because he totally deserves it at this point. And Serena deserves some karma biting her in the ass, too. I can't wait to see Blair turn into a wild child (relatively speaking).

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed and added me on some form of alert and/or favorites list.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Azalea (Part One)**

"You can't undo anything you've already done, but you can face up to it. You can tell the truth. You can see forgiveness. And then let God do the rest." - unknown

* * *

_Saturday, July 27, 2013_

"_You are my sunshine_

_My only sunshine._

_You make me happy_

_When skies are grey._

_You'll never know, dear,_

_How much I love you._

_Please don't take my sunshine away…"_

"Blair?" I whispered as I watched her continue to gently rock her son, finally calming him after minutes of endless high-pitched wailing.

She stopped singing and looked up at me from her seat on the rocking chair, her eyes showing the exhaustion she wouldn't vocalize. It had been a week since I had opened the door and found her standing there, holding Tristan in one arm while clutching the handle of her extra large suitcase with the other. Both Harold and I had been informed by Eleanor that Blair had boarded an early flight to France, so we waited at the estate until she arrived.

One look into our knowing eyes had sent her bawling, and the both of us leapt into action. I had gently taken the baby away, and Harold enveloped his daughter in a comforting embrace.

"Oh, Blair-bear. I'm so sorry, honey." He had whispered as he kissed his daughter's head.

Everyday since then we had tried to provide a calm environment for both Blair and Tristan. Harold had noticed that the boy was more prone to crying fits now then when he was younger; both he and I knew it was because he missed his father.

"I'm glad you got 'im to settle down." I said.

"You know that he always calms down to that song." She replied as she smiled fondly at the brown haired boy she cradled in her arms.

He stared back at her with wide blue eyes while he toothlessly bit into one hand and waved the other around, occasionally patting his mother on the chin. I could tell that he was smiling by the dimple that appeared on his left cheek, and I counted my blessings that he was content for the time being.

"It seems to be like that's the _only_ song 'e will calm down to. Now let us go and eat breakfast, I'm sure le petit prince est très faim." I said as I led her to the solarium.

Breakfast was always a pleasant affair. Both Harold and I made a conscious effort to always start the day off with a hearty meal and a warm smile for his daughter and grandson. Upon hearing our entrance, Harold had put down his morning paper and stood to greet us a good morning. He took Tristan from Blair and kissed both of the boys cheeks twice, which caused the little one to burst into giggles.

"Does the little prince like his Grandpapa's kisses?" He asked as he cuddled the boy.

"Pa!" Tristan replied before going off on a babbling jabber that only he understood.

"So what do you 'ave planned for the day, Blair?" I asked once we were all seated.

Reaching for one of the freshly baked croissants, she replied.

"I was thinking of showing Tristan all the Roman ruins in the city. He seemed interested in the Porte Mars when we were at the train station last week, so we're going to start there to see the entrance gate and the cryptoportico, and then we'll head off to the Saint Remy Museum to see the other historical objects."

Harold and I shared a quick look and smile. Only Blair would take her six-and-a-half month old son to Roman ruins in an effort to both teach and culture him.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, darling. I'm sure Tristan will enjoy the sites. In the mean time, I have to go to Épernay to check on the grapes. It looks like it's going to be a good harvest season this year."

The rest of breakfast was filled with conversation on the upcoming harvest season. Blair was trying to convince Harold to expand tourism and create an ecole du vin at the production facilities for all the wine harvest tourists, while I tried to stay out of their conversation by amusing Tristan with French nursery rhymes. I had told Blair that I would teach all of her children French, and so far, Tristan was proving to be a model student.

"_Une souris verte_

_Qui courait dans l'herbe._

_Je l'attrape par la queue…" _I began to sing while I held the baby's small hands and waved it about.

"Sou!" he exclaimed before letting out a jovial little giggle.

* * *

By nine thirty the three had left for their various activities, and I stayed behind for a day of relaxation. I had planned on doing a little gardening before catching up on my reading poolside.

The gardening was done by eleven, and I was halfway up the stairs, ready to change out of my soil stained clothing when the doorbell rung. It continued to ring with every step I took, and by the tenth ring, a harsh knocking accompanied them

"Blair!" I heard a muffled voice yell from the other side of the door.

Ah, so it's _him_. I was wondering when he would finally show up.

"What a surprise. Bonjour, Charles." I said as I opened the door and leaned against the doorframe.

I had to admit, the sight of the young billionaire often caused me to get a little hot under the collar, but today it was not for the right reasons. His haggard appearance gained no sympathy from me.

"I need to see Blair. Please." He said as he ran a hand over his face.

"She's not 'ome right now, perhaps you should try another time." I said before closing the door.

I was barely two steps away when he began to pound on the door with his fists.

"Roman! Let me in you French bastard! I need to see Blair! Roman!" He yelled.

I rolled my eyes at his insults, like that would convince me to let him in.

* * *

Two hours later and the boy was still yelling to be let in. I had to admit that his tenacity was impressive, he had taken to pacing across the front of the estate, threatening to break through the window if necessary. Thank God we didn't have any neighbors close by, I really was not prepared to explain why the youngest billionaire was shouting profanities and pacing like a madman.

The sudden ringing of my mobile phone broke my amused observation of Chuck Bass, and I jovially answered.

"Bonjour, 'arry."

"Bonjour, Roman. I was calling because I was wondering how long that very disheveled looking son-in-law of mine has stomping back and forth across our front yard while screaming incessantly."

I smiled. He must be past the front gate in order to have seen Chuck.

"Only for two or so 'ours. 'e came at around eleven."

Harold gave a small chuckle before speaking.

"As fun as it is to torture the boy, let him in, Roman. I'll be there in a minute or two."

With that, we ended out conversation and I decided to finally let the philanderer in.

"It's about time, damn it." he said the moment I opened unlocked the door.

He shouldered his way past me and jogged up to the foot of the staircase, shouting for Blair.

"I told you earlier. She's not 'ere."

His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he let out an exhausted sigh.

"I was hoping you were lying." He said honestly.

I felt a pinch of sympathy for the fool, he looked beyond tired; his eyes were rimmed with red and bloodshot, and he looked as if he hadn't shaved in a day or two. His suit looked like it had been slept in, and his hair was a mess. If it was any other situation, I would have laughed. It wasn't everyday that one of the most well dressed men I knew looked like a vagrant.

"When will she be back?" he asked as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm not sure. She 'ad planned a full day of sightseeing and museum touring."

"Sightseeing? Where?" he looked rejuvenated at just the thought of catching his wife at another location.

"It doesn't matter where she is right now, Charles. You're staying here, we need to have a conversation." a stern voice said from the front door.

Seeing his wife's father by the door, Chuck clenched both his jaw and his fists before giving Harold a quick nod in agreement.

* * *

The three of us had each taken a seat in the solarium; Harold and I on one side of the long rectangular table, and Chuck on the other.

"Now, Roman and I both know the gist of what's happened. What we need is for you to tell us the specifics." Harold said as he leaned forward, his hands laying flat against the table.

"Harold-"

"Mr. Waldorf."

"-Mr. Waldorf, sir. I would like to tell Blair what happened before I tell anyone else."

Harold leapt to his feet while slamming his hands against the oak table in frustration. He stretched over the table to loom over Chuck, his face reddened with anger.

"No, Charles." He started sternly.

"You will tell _us_ first what happened. I need to know what drove you to cheat on my baby after you had vowed to always keep her happy."

"I'm sorry Mr. Waldorf." Chuck said quietly after a tense moment of silence.

Harold let out a frustrated sigh before sitting back down. I took his hand in mine and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Damn it, Chuck. Just tell us what happened."

* * *

"It happened before I knew what was going on. I swear. One minute I was getting a nightcap, and the next _she_ was next to me.

'_Charles Bass.' She whispered into my ear, her warm breath caressing my cheek._

_I felt her fingers run through my hair before she wrapped her arms around my neck, preventing hme from turning his head._

'_I never thought I'd see you again.' she cooed as she nipped my earlobe._

_I finally had enough of this woman, whoever she was. I shrugged off the thin, tan arms and finally had enough space to turn to face her._

'_Elle.'_

I hadn't seen her in years. Since my senior year of high school. I couldn't even remember her name right away, but she remembered me.

'_So you still remember me?' She asked with a coy smile._

_I nodded, a frown fixed on my face._

'_Good.'_

'_What are you doing here?' I asked._

_She took hold of the lapels of my coat before leading me to an empty table in a secluded corner._

'_I live here. I've been living here ever since I left Manhattan. How long has it been again, Chuck?'_

'_I don't know, and frankly, I don't care. Besides, I thought you only approached men who would give you money?'_

_I watched as she pouted. I couldn't believe that the woman who had made a fool out of me years ago was here, flirting with me like there was no tomorrow._

'_Unless that's what you need. If so, I think you should move up to Amsterdam and get a job at a brothel. The environment should be familiar to you.' I continued as I plucked her grasping hands off my arm._

'_Chuck, please. Don't be mean. I'm sorry for having been so harsh to you the last time we were together. I've regretted it everyday.'_

'_Don't. You left with wise advice.'_

'_Oh? So tell me Mr. Bass, who did you give your good heart to?' she asked softly as she pressed herself to my side._

'_My wife.' I said curtly, laying my left hand flat against the table to show her the gleaming gold ring that rested on my finger._

I thought that she would leave after that, but I should have known she had no qualms about seducing married men.

'_And who is the lucky Mrs. Bass? Is she the daughter of one of the gentlemen I was acquainted with?'_

_I scoffed in disgust._

'_No, Blair's father wasn't in the club. He's better than that.' I said before finishing off my snifter of scotch._

_From the corner of my eye I saw that devious coy return to her lips. She placed her hand to my cheek and turned my head to face her._

'_Now the question is, are you better than that?'_

* * *

**AN**: I promise to get part two uploaded as soon as I have it written. There's much more to this specific storyline then most would think, so there will probably be four or five parts in total.

Don't forget to review, please!

Also, if you haven't seen it already, I've posted plenty of pictures that go along with this story on my profile page. There are pictures of the kids, the Bass Manhattan Penthouse, and Eve's minions. There's now also a link to a play list that has songs that inspired certain chapters. Check them out!


	4. Azalea :part 2:

**AN:** Wow, I'm really cranking this thing out. I hope people don't start getting too used to this… although I do like the feeling of accomplishment that comes with updating twice in one week (and I wrote a one-shot for a different fandom!).

I hope that everyone enjoys this, if the actions of the characters seem confusing, don't worry, it's supposed to be that way.

Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to L's mom, who's getting married, Lol. Congratulations, L's mom!

Please review!

* * *

**Chapter Four: Azalea (part two)**

"Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The loves and sorrows that are great are destroyed by their own plentitude." - Oscar Wilde

* * *

_Saturday, July 27, 2013_

"Was that all it took, Charles?" Harold asked as he interrupted the boy's retelling of his infidelity.

Chuck lifted his gaze from the oak table to meet disappointed eyes.

"Did all she have to do was challenge you, and you were willing to throw your whole marriage away?" Harold continued.

"No! Of course not!"

"Then _why_ did you do it? If this woman had played you like a fool before, then why did you go with her? What were you trying to prove?"

"I… I don't know…" Chuck answered weakly, his gaze lowering back to the table.

I watched in sadness as he rested his elbows onto the table, taking his face into his hands in the pose of a broken man.

"Chuck, that answer isn't good enough. I know there has to be some reason why you did what you did, so please, tell us." Harold said gently, leaning towards the younger man and laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Both Harold and I waited in silence, watching the figure across the table. He remained still for minutes, not making a sound until he let out a sigh and raised his head, his eyes rimmed red.

"I did it because I… I figured I could finally get her back for humiliating me." He said calmly.

I felt the hand that I held clench. I knew Harold's attempt at being understanding had already been waning, but Chuck's answer was the final straw.

"Revenge?! How could falling into her trap be revenge?!" he shouted, once again launching himself out of his seat and slamming his hands against the table.

"I didn't see it like that!" Chuck replied quickly.

"I thought that if I could treat her like the disposable whore she is and leave her, I would be getting payback."

"Damn it, Chuck. Revenge would have been showing her pictures of Blair! Or better yet, pictures of your _son_!" Harold exclaimed as he began to pace.

"Revenge would have been walking away and showing 'er 'ow she meant nothing to you." I said calmly from my seat.

"I know that now. I'm sorry." Chuck said calmly, but I knew guilt and self-hatred were eating him alive.

"We're not the ones you should--"

"Daddy! Roman! We're back, and we bought some of your favorite fromage from the market near the Porte de Mars!"

All three of us froze at the sound of her voice. Her footsteps were getting louder, and I knew that she would enter the solarium at any moment.

"Where are you two? Please tell me you're decent---" she said as she turned the corner and walked into the room.

The shock on her face was obvious, and if she wasn't holding Tristan, I was sure she would have marched right up to her husband and slapped him in the face. Instead she quickly fixed her expression into one of stony calmness while readjusting the baby on her hip.

"What are you doing here, Bass?" she asked in that all-too-familiar haughty voice, as if she was trying to mask the pain that I knew was there with a heavy layer of condescension.

"I needed to see you." Chuck responded as he quickly rose from his seat and walked towards his family.

With every step he took forward, Blair took one back, not stopping until her back hit the wall.

"Well we don't want you here!"

Due to all the commotion, Tristan awoke from his nap in his mother's arms. I saw his bright blue eyes open slowly to take in his surroundings. One hand gripped the collar of Blair's silk shirt, while the other held onto his toy elephant.

"Pa!" He exclaimed gleefully when he finally caught sight of his father.

Tristan squirmed in Blair's arms, trying to be released while reaching towards Chuck.

"Tristan." Chuck said, looking relieved that his son wanted him.

He reached towards the baby, ready to hold him, when Blair pulled their son back.

"What do you think you're doing? Don't touch him!" She yelled as she clutched Tristan closer to her chest.

The baby was having none of it and soon let out a wail of displeasure. We watched as Blair tried to console her son, who was still reaching towards his father.

"Blair, let Charles hold his son. Tristan hasn't seen him for almost a month." Harold said from his place beside me.

Blair looked scandalized at her father's suggestion.

"How could you say that? Don't you remember what he's done? I'm never letting him near Tristan! He doesn't need a bastard for a father!" She exclaimed before practically running out of the room and fleeing upstairs to her bedroom.

Chuck called out for her to come back before he went after her up the stairs.

"What are we going to do now, 'arry?" I asked, still taking in all that's happened.

"We let them resolve this on their own. We can't do anything else."

* * *

The sound of their loud argument reverberated throughout the estate for nearly an hour before Blair had stomped back downstairs, walking straight to the front door. She flung it open and screamed for Chuck to leave. From his place in his grandpère's arms, Tristan let out a distressed whimper. Harold attempted to sooth him, but his parents' shouts seemed to overwhelm him. I had ventured upstairs early in their yelling match to rescue the boy who was, at the time, crying so hysterically he was at the point of pure exhaustion.

"I won't leave, Blair!"

"I wasn't asking, Bass. Get out!"

"Stop it, both of you! You are frightening your son!" I exclaimed as I marched up to the pair and stood in between them.

They shot each other accusatory looks before they both bee-lined for Harold and Tristan.

"Ma…" Tristan said while holding his arms out towards his mother, his hands clenching and unclenching, gesturing to be picked up.

Blair elbowed Chuck aside and rushed forward to hold her son.

"It's alright, baby. I'll make him leave."

"Blair, he's my son, too." Chuck said in indignation.

Blair shot him a look of contempt.

"It will be a cold day in hell before I ever allow him to see you as more than a sperm donor."

"Blair, that's enough." Harold cut in.

The way his face pinched in was a clear indicator to his stress. He had been worrying about his daughter's marriage since Eleanor had called, and many nights he would lay awake, thinking about how to help her. I knew that he wished they would talk like the adults they were, and had even considered calling Chuck and inviting him to stay with us. Seeing how the two of them behaved with one another now must have crushed all of poor Harold's hope that they would resolve this peacefully.

"But--"

"No, Blair. No more arguing like children. I understand your anger towards Chuck, but for the sake of everyone's already frayed nerves, please, discuss this like adults. Hopefully the both of you haven't scarred your son for life with all the fighting."

The two looked ashamed at the last comment. If I had learned anything about how the two were as parents, I knew that they always held Tristan in the forefront of their minds. Despite the fact that the two of them were still prone to selfishness and overall immature behavior, that baby who looked so much like his late paternal grandfather was the undisputed pride and joy in both their lives.

"You're right, Mr. Waldorf." Chuck said.

"I just… I just need to speak with you Blair, please."

I watched as Blair took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She nodded in agreement after a moment of what had to be quick deliberation in her mind.

"You're right. We do have to talk, but I can't do it right now. This day has suddenly become too long."

"Tomorrow then?" Chuck asked tentatively.

Another moment of silence passed between the two of them as Blair once again weighed her options.

"Alright. Tomorrow at noon, we'll meet you at Le Boulingrin. I'm sure you'll be able to find that."

Chuck gave her a curt nod before he excused himself.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Blair." He said, his gaze lingering on the little boy in her arms.

Tristan met his father's stare and gave him a small wave goodbye.

"Pa."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Tristan." Chuck said calmly before giving him a small smile, which the baby mirrored.

"Goodbye, Chuck." Blair said to his retreating figure.

* * *

It was late in the evening by the time Harold and I went to bed. I watched as he performed his usual nightly ritual of brushing his teeth, flossing, then washing his face. I had wanted to talk about tomorrow's potential clash of the titans, but I didn't know how to approach the subject. Thankfully it was he who started the conversation.

"I think we should leave those two to talk alone tomorrow."

My dear Harold was always one for getting to the point.

"You know Blair is expecting that we accompany 'er throughout this meeting."

"I know, but we shouldn't be there. We'll be honest with her and tell her that she needs to talk to her husband without using us as guard dogs. We'll take Tristan and go shopping for a few hours." He said as he got into bed.

"You always make it sound so simple." I replied with a smile before turning to my nightstand and turning off the light.

"It's the only way I'll be able to sleep tonight."

* * *

_Sunday, July 28, 2013_

"What do you mean you're not going to stay with me?" Blair asked once we reached the doors of the restaurant

"It's just as we said, dear. Roman and I are going to take Tristan out for a little shopping around town while you and Charles discuss certain important matters." Harold said.

"I can't believe you're just going to leave me here with him!"

I tried to ignore Blair's loud complaints as I told the maître d' that Blair Bass had arrived.

"Venez cette façon Madame, S'il vous plaît. Monsieur Bass est déjà arrivé."

We followed the man to the secluded table at the back of the restaurant where we saw Chuck standing by his seat, a bouquet of white azaleas in his hand.

"We'll see you at home, darling." Harold whispered into her ear as he gave her a quick hug.

I kissed her, and took Tristan from her arms. As Harold, Tristan and I made our way out of the restaurant, I couldn't help but take a quick glance back. The two of them stood awkwardly at opposite sides of the square table. I saw Chuck mouth a 'hello' to Blair before offering her the bouquet.

"Do you think they will actually talk?" I asked once we were strolling down Rue Mars.

"We'll have to see. If she's home by the time we get back, then it either didn't ended well, or they were thrown out for disturbing the peace." he replied with a small smile.

"I do 'ope that they try to maintain their manners while in public."

"Dear God, I hope so, too."

* * *

It was half past five in the evening when I heard the front door open. Harold was upstairs giving Tristan a bath, and I had stayed downstairs to wait for Blair's return. By the time I reached the foyer Blair was halfway down the hall, heading for the kitchen.

"Blair, wait." I called out to her.

Her back straightened at the sound of my voice, and she didn't turn to acknowledge me. In her right hand she held the bouquet of azaleas Chuck had given her, and I could tell that she was holding something in her clenched left hand. She looked noticeably disheveled; her Carolina Herrera day dress did not look quite as pristine, and her hair looked as if she had ran her hands through it several times.

"Comment ça s'est passé?" I asked as I laid my hand on her shoulder.

"Il va bien." She replied, voice devoid of any emotion.

"Blair, ce qui s'est passé?"

She didn't answer as she continued to make her way to the kitchen. I followed her and watched as she made her way to the wine refrigerator and opened up a bottle of champagne, pouring herself a liberal amount.

"Blair, réspondez-moi s'il vous plaît. Ce qui s'est passé?"

She finished her glass before saying anything.

"I slept with him, Roman."

_Mon Dieu._

* * *

Translation:

"Please follow me, Madame. Mr. Bass has already arrived."

"How did it go?

"It went well."

"Blair, what happened?"

"Blair, please answer me. What happened?"

_My God_.

* * *

**AN:** I also have to say that I apologize for any and all grammatical errors I wrote in French. I haven't been in a formal class in years, and I'm horribly rusty. I mainly used a translator application on my phone. If you know the correct way to say the sentences I've got translated, please feel free to tell me so I can correct it right away. Thanks!


	5. Azalea :part 3:

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* * *

**

**AN:**Apologies for the delay. I had planned on updating Monday, but the episode tripped me up. I didn't expect Blair to find out about Tranny Nanny (Lynnie's endearing term for Elle). I apologize for any grammatical mistakes, this isn't beta-ed and I most likely missed a few things when I read it over. Just tell me where there's a grammatical error, and I'll fix it asap.

Also, this chapter is rated M. I cut out the smutty part so it's at the end of the chapter, but still, this is a warning!

Please leave a review!

* * *

**Chapter Five: Azalea (part three)**

"We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them." - Kahlil Gibran

* * *

_Previously_

_"Blair, réponds moi. Que s'est-il passé?"_

_She finished her glass before saying anything._

"_I slept with him, Roman."_

_Mon Dieu._

* * *

_Sunday, July 28, 2013_

Blair and I stared at one another as we both processed what she said. I was more than sure I resembled a carp with my eyes wide and mouth open in shock. She, too, looked surprised by her own verbal admission, and I knew that if I hadn't pestered her then she would have never mentioned it.

"Blair-bear, is that you?" Harold called out as he made his way down the stairs.

After taking a deep breath, she answered.

"Yes, Daddy. Roman and I are in the kitchen."

The two of us continued to say nothing as we waited for Harold to join us, so I took this time to try to sort out my jumbled thoughts. The questions that filled my mind were slowly giving me a headache.

_How could she sleep with him?_

That was the most dominant question, and the one I was sure to get an answer for. This morning she had been so adamant about never wanting to see Charles Bass ever again, so what changed her mind? I was well aware of the fact that Chuck was a charmer, but I doubt that all his skills in compliment giving and seduction would have worked on a wrathful Blair Waldorf (Bass).

"There you are, darling." Harold said as he entered the kitchen and made his way over to his daughter, enveloping her in a hug.

Blair seemed to deflate in her father's arms, her rigid posture giving way to the exhaustion the day brought her. Her hands clasped the back of Harold's shirt tightly, as she returned his hug and sought comfort.

"It didn't go the way I planned, Daddy." I heard her mumble.

"I'm sorry, honey. Come on, let's sit and you can tell Roman and I all about it." Harold replied as he gently led his daughter to the kitchen table.

As the two of them sat down, I quickly grabbed the newly opened bottle of champagne and two more glasses.

_We're going to need this_.

* * *

Harold sent me a worried glance over Blair's head as we sat quietly, waiting for her to speak. As soon as he had set her down on her seat, the two of us sat in the chairs beside her. I had poured a glass of champagne for the two of us, and refilled Blair's glass. She took the glass and nearly guzzled the drink in what I thought was a desperate attempt to calm herself. I was about to refill her glass when Harold stopped me, and took the glass away from Blair. That was ten minutes ago, and we've been sitting in silence ever since.

I watched as she stared at the wall in front of her, her eyebrows pinching together in a look of concentration.

"Blair--" I started before she finally said something.

"I had considered leaving the moment you two took Tristan and left."

"But you didn't." Harold replied, trying to get her to continue.

"No, I figured I might as well have gotten it over with because after lunch he'll never be able to say that I didn't take the time to talk to him."

"I didn't want to see him ever again after today."

"But then why did---"

My question was cut off when she whipped her head to the side, giving me one of the coldest looks I've ever seen. I could tell Harold was confused by her reaction, and he knew he was missing a vital piece of information.

"What's going on?" He asked while Blair and I continued our silent conversation.

The cold glare had left her gaze and soon she was looking at me with pleading eyes. I gave her a nod of acquiescence, but made a note to talk to her privately about it later.

"Nothing, dear." I answered as I gave Harold a reassuring smile.

"As I was saying, I decided to give him lunch to make his excuses…

* * *

'_Hello, Blair.' he said, finally breaking the ice. _

_We had been standing by our table, stuck in an awkward silence when all around us people were laughing and enjoying their meals. I glanced enviously at an old couple sitting two tables away from us. They weren't speaking, but I could tell that they had years of understanding for each other. They didn't need to be coerced into lunch to talk by third parties whenever one of them did something stupid. I looked back and Chuck and he still remained standing, waiting for me to acknowledge him._

'_Bass.' I replied._

_He had a small smile on his face when he offered me the azaleas he was holding, and I took them without looking at them._

'_Why do you always buy me flowers whenever you fuck up? They're not going to help, you know.'_

_The devil on my shoulder grinned at the sight of his smile shatter and he looked away, shame faced. _

'_Let's just sit, shall we?' he asked as he walked to my side of the table and pulled my seat out for me._

'_I don't need help sitting down.' I said as I slapped his hands away from the chair._

_He didn't say anything, but continued to help me sit before he went back to his side and sat himself down. I could tell by his rigid posture that he was using all his self restraint to not start yelling at me to stop being a brat right now. _

_Too bad he didn't know how to use his self restraint in Bern._

_We fell into another lapse of quiet. I played with the silverware and admired the restaurant's decorations while he stared fixedly on me._

'_I'm glad you came. I was worried that you wouldn't show up.'_

'_Why wouldn't I come? I want to get this over with. The sooner we sit and look civil, the sooner Daddy will get off my back about not 'handling the situation like an adult'. Besides, we both know not showing up is your thing.'_

_He gave me a small nod of agreement, ignoring my last barb, I'm sure. I rolled my eyes when he opened his mouth, but then quickly snapped it closed. The idiot wanted to talk, and now that he had the chance, he's struck mute._

'_Well… go on and say something. This is what you've been pestering me for, isn't it?'_

_He gave me another dumb little nod before speaking._

'_I love you, Blair.' He said as he reached across the table to try to hold my hand._

Despite everything that's happened, I still felt a small part of my heart clench at the declaration. I knew that if I was honest, as in really, truly, painfully honest, I would admit that I still loved the Basstard. But I wasn't being honest, I was being the scornful wife to the man who betrayed her, so I retracted my hands and placed them on my lap where they were safe from his touch.

'_Don't touch me.'_

_He conceded and leaned away, but as he did he shook his head in frustration and clenched his hands. I knew that I was driving him crazy, but we both knew that he deserved every minute of it. He offered me a quiet apology, and a promise to not touch me._

'_How did you find me?' I asked, deciding to facilitate this god-awful conversation._

_I figured that the sooner we start it, the sooner we finish it._

_He looked relieved at my 'safe-subject' question, but I should have known that he would be too chicken-shit to get right to the point._

'_I went to your mother's place first. I, uh, got your envelope, and since you weren't there I went to each and every one of our houses in the continental United States to see if you were hiding out in one of them. I was about to head off to the Honokaope Bay estate when Lily finally felt sorry enough for me to tell me where you were. Now that I think about it, I can't believe that I didn't go here first.'_

_He took a nervous gulp of water after he finished rambling. _

'_I knew you were a dog, Chuck, but now we know your specific breed is bloodhound.' I said, not being able to resist another insult._

_Before he was able to defend himself, out waiter arrived and we ordered our meals. I decided that I had enough fun, it was time to get serious._

'_Alright, Chuck, let's get to the point of this whole rendezvous. I want to know who that dirty skank was, and what the hell you were thinking when you decided to fuck up our marriage.'_

It didn't happen often, so seeing Chuck Bass uncomfortable in a certain situation always came as a treat. The last time it had happened was when Dorota had forced him to learn how to change Tristan's diaper.

_I watched as he fidgeted ever-so-slightly in his seat while he gripped his end of the table hard enough to lose all the color in his knuckles._

'_Before I tell you, you have to know that it's more complicated than it seems. Promise me that you'll hear it all out.'_

_I hesitated before I answered. Complicated? How complicated was picking up a Swiss bar-ho and cheating on your wife?_

'_Fine, sure. I promise.' I replied flippantly with a wave of my hand._

'_Her name's Elle. I first met her during our senior year of high school, after Bart died.' He started, eyeing me and waiting for a reaction._

_I felt like I had just been slapped in the face. He knew her since _high school_? Had it been going on since then? Was it only now that he got caught?_

'_No, Blair, it isn't like that. I met her at a private party, but she didn't want me so we parted ways soon after. I hadn't seen her for years.'_

_I took a drink of the chardonnay wine I ordered, trying to relax my nerves._

'_She didn't want you? Is that why you went after her in Bern?' I asked._

_A small part of me, the same one that fluttered at his admission of love, was pleased by his instant reaction. He shook his head in an emphatic 'no', all the while looking more and more unhinged._

'_No that isn't it at all!' He exclaimed loudly, garnering some disapproving looks from the other restaurant patrons. _

'_Keep your voice down!' I hissed._

'_I'm sorry, but you have it all wrong, Blair.' he said._

'_What else can it be, Chuck? She didn't want you then, so you saw another opportunity in Switzerland.'_

_He let out a deep sigh as he massaged the bridge of his nose, it was motion that he recently developed whenever he felt pressured._

'_Alright, so I wasn't being completely honest when I said Elle and I parted ways soon after we met. She disappeared the day after the party, but about a week later I saw her with Carter. I don't know why I was so obsessed with her, but I fell right into her plans. She came by the Palace and fed me this bullshit story about needing help to leave the people she worked for, and I ate it all up. I paid for her tickets out of the country with a fake passport, and she thanked me by sleeping with me. The next day she told me that she didn't want me.'_

_I was confused. What the hell did that have to do with what happened in Bern? He looked at me as if he expected me to have already connected the dots._

'_Then why did you want her…?'_

'_Don't you see, Blair? I didn't want her, I wanted _revenge_! She threw herself at me while I was drinking that night, and I thought I could do to her what she did to me.'_

Before I could even think of a response I was walking out of the restaurant and down Rue du Temple. I remember hearing him call out my name, and his heavy footsteps as he power-walked after me.

'_Blair, wait, please!' Chuck begged as he tried to stop me by grabbing my hand._

_I ripped my hand out of his hold and stopped only to slap him. He didn't flinch when my hand made contact, but I knew he felt the same sting on his cheek as I did on my palm._

'_I love you. I'm sorry.' he said quietly._

_I didn't know how long we stood in the middle of the deserted sidewalk, but I did know that I couldn't stay. _

'_I need to go, Chuck.' I said as I turned and began to walk away._

'_I love you, Blair.'_

_His hands gently held my face, forcing me to look him in the eye. I watched as tears made their way down his face. He had never cried before. Not when Bart died, or when we were married, or when Tristan was born. It was strange to finally see him do something I've found myself doing too many times in the past month. I wiped off the latest tear that was making its way down the right side of his face, and he closed his eyes at my touch._

'_I love you, Blair.' he said again._

_I felt my heart crack at the combination of his words and his tears. I had always said that I would love Chuck Bass for the rest of my life, but it was only now that I realized how unshakably true those words were. Despite everything, I didn't want to see him cry; I didn't want to see him hurt at all. _

_Before I knew what I was doing, I had dragged him into the mouth of the alley between the Hôtel des Ventes and the Version Originale Restaurant, pushing him against the white metal fence that blocked deeper access into the alley. He gave a soft grunt of surprise before his lips smashed into mine._

"We really don't need to hear this part, dear." Harold said, interrupting her retelling.

Blair blushed a light pink. I knew she had forgotten that she was recounting her recent public tryst to her father and his lover the moment her eyes took on that glazed and far away look.

"Right, I apologize. Afterwards, he begged that I go back to his hotel with him. I agreed, and we spent the afternoon together. I realized later that he thought I had forgiven him, and I haven't. Not yet anyway. So I left him while he went to take a shower."

Harold and I exchanged another glance at the end of her tale. Neither of us knew what to say to make her feel better. She said she hadn't forgiven him, but even she was aware that she would forgive him eventually.

"Why do I always have to be the one who forgives him for his monumental fuck ups?" She asked quietly as she took another sip of her wine.

"Because despite every heartache he brings, you still love him. You loved him since high school, dear, and you loved him through his most deplorable behavior."

"I understand that with love comes pain, but why do I have to love him so much?"*

"I don't know, Blair-bear." Harold answered, and we settled into another pregnant silence.

After we finished our drinks, Harold and I ushered Blair to her room. She immediately went to her baby's crib and watched him sleep. I took a hold of Harold's hand and pulled him quietly out of Blair's room, finally giving her the space I'm sure she wanted.

"What happens now?" Harold asked me as we prepared for bed.

"Je ne sais quoi, 'arry."

* * *

_Wednesday, July 31, 2013_

It was six thirty in the morning when I heard the light knocks. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but I soon realized that the rhythmic knocking was someone at the front door. I moved as quietly as I could out of the bedroom and down the hall, as to not awaken anyone else.

I wasn't surprised to see Chuck on the other side of the door when I opened it. He had been coming here every morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife. Monday he had been slightly angry over the fact that she had left him in his hotel, but he couldn't hold her at fault for that for long. He respected her wishes for him to stay away from her so long as he was allowed to see his son. Blair allowed him to take the boy around the city, but kept the baby curfew strictly at five in the evening, so for the past two days Chuck arrived at an obnoxiously early hour in order to spend a good amount of the day with Tristan. I could tell that he was hurt that she wasn't willing to spend anymore time with him, but I could also tell that he was grateful over the fact that she now let him spend time with their baby.

"Bonjour, Chuck." I said as I let him in.

"Good morning, Roman. Are they up yet?"

"It's 'alf past six in the morning. _I_ wouldn't be awake if you weren't 'ere!"

He gave me a small smile that gave off a hint of embarrassment. I led him to the breakfast nook where I began my morning ritual of preparing breakfast. Soon enough the smells of freshly baked croissants wafted throughout the estate, and I heard footsteps heading down the stairs.

"Good morning you two." Harold said upon entering the room.

All three of us took a seat and began eating. Conversation was kept at a light tone, but all three of us were waiting for Blair to come downstairs. Neither Harold nor I knew how she would be like this morning. Yesterday she seemed more accepting of her and Chuck's arrangement, but I was never one to overlook Blair's temper.

We soon heard her voice down the hall as she sang to Tristan. Ever since she had allowed Chuck to see his son, Tristan's attitude had improved dramatically. Granted he still was a more-than-average fussy baby, he no longer bawled at the drop of a hat.

"Pa!" The baby cried when he saw the three of us.

Chuck smiled at his son, and gently took him from Blair's arms. The exchange was awkward; Chuck didn't want to upset her by touching her, and Blair didn't want to touch him, but neither wanted to accidentally drop Tristan.

"Good morning everyone." Blair said as she took a seat beside me.

We all ate in relative peace, and Chuck set out to take Tristan to the local park soon after. Harold excused himself as he got ready to head off to visit the vineyard, and only Blair and I were left at the breakfast table.

"So have you forgiven him?" I asked as I took another bit out of my buttered croissant.

Blair didn't say anything, instead she played with the pain au chocolat, tearing out small pieces of it.

"No, not yet." she finally said.

* * *

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --

because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because

then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;

may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,

Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

- Pablo Neruda, _I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair _

* * *

[Smut scene]

_Our teeth occasionally collided together, but we both ignored the discomfort in the pursuit of each other. He pushed against the fence and reversed our positions, pressing me firmly into the metal bars. I felt his hands blindly grasping at the material of my dress before he ran his hands down my hips and grasped at the backs of my thighs. He lifted me up and off the ground, and I grabbed at the bars behind me with one hand while wrapping the other around his shoulders._

'_I love you, Blair.' he said for a third time as he kissed my jaw._

_I responded by wrapping my legs around his waist, which allowed for one of his hands to leave its place in order to further explore my body._

'_Chuck…' I head my self moan when his free hand found its way between my thighs._

_He stopped the gentle stroking of his fingers, and broke away from my neck to look at me. We stared at each other for a few long moments before I grabbed the back of head and brought his lips back against mine. I felt him shifting a bit, and I faintly heard the sound of his trouser zipper. Then I felt those fingers move my panties aside before I felt him push into me. I closed my eyes and groaned at the familiar sensation of lust pulsing through my veins before I tightened the grip my legs had around his waist._

_The rhythm Chuck set was slow but each thrust seemingly reached deeper and deeper inside of me. Soon enough I felt myself nearing my peak, not caring if a random passerby heard me as I tightened my one armed hold of Chuck's shoulders._

_His hot breath was panting into my neck, and I felt his hands caress whatever portion of skin it touched._

'_Chuck,' I whimpered when he began to plunge in deeper._

'_I'm so…'_

'_I know, Blair.' he said, his voice tight from concentration._

_I saw beads of sweat trickle down from his forehead, and I was reminded of the tears. I tried to wipe them off, and he gave me a quiet growl before kissing me and picking up his pace._

_I felt the tight coiling feeling in my abdomen tighten even more, and Chuck knew I was on the brink. He slammed me against the metal bars and thrust fast and deep. I moaned at the sensation, and then cried out his name a moment later when I was pushed over the edge._

_He continued to thrust while I tried to recover. He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes looking straight into mine. _

'_God, Blair…' he panted._

_I left a trail of kisses on his jaw before reaching his ear where I gently nibbled on the lobe._

'_Let go, Chuck.'_

_I felt the warm rush of his completion, and he buried his face into the junction of my neck and shoulder. He shifted his hold on me, so I was now held tightly within his embrace. I let go of the grip my legs had around his middle, and I felt him slip out of me. As my feet touched the floor, I tried to smooth down my clothes and hair, but I could barely move from his embrace._

_He stopped my attempts at wiggling out of his embrace by placing a hand under my chin and bringing our lips together._

'_Come back with me. Please.'_

* * *

**AN:** Phew! I thought I wasn't ever going to get this done! The line that Blair said with an asterisk (*) after it is a quote I saw that fit the context perfectly. I don't know who said/wrote the line, but I think it's popped up in a movie or two. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up; I'm gunning for some time next week.


	6. Azalea :part 4:

* * *

**AN:** So this is what happens when I'm desperate to finish this angsty little storyline. It's definitely different from the previous chapters in Roman's POV, but I hope you all still like it. The next chapter is something I've been waiting to write for a while now. It most likely will be a few chapters as well. I apologize for any spelling errors, and the Polish in the end was from iGoogle's translator. If it's incorrect, I apologize!

Please leave a review!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Six: Azalea (part four)**

"To forgive is the highest, most beautiful form of love. In return, you will receive untold peace and happiness." - Robert Muller

* * *

And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.

Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.

The night turns on its invisible wheels,

and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,

we will go together, over the waters of time.

No one else will travel through the shadows with me,

only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists

and let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray

wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries

me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.

Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.

- Pablo Neruda, _Sonnet LXXXI_

* * *

_Friday August 9, 2013_

"Would you like more gougères, Blair?" I asked as we drank our afternoon tea underneath the newly installed iron gazebo in the middle of the backyard.

"I really shouldn't, but…" She replied as she reached for more of the warm pastry.

I gave her a small impish smile as I popped another cheese puff into my mouth. We had begun our tradition of afternoon tea the day after she and Charles had had their _encounter_ and she allowed him to see their son. Since Chuck usually took Tristan out around town, Blair had found that she had much more time than she knew what to do with. She would usually try and fill her days in the room Harold and I converted into her office, but after a few hours she would come find me and tell me that she couldn't possibly think of any more designs for the day.

Today Blair had decided to spend all morning helping me tend to the gardens instead of staying indoors. She didn't say anything, but I knew she didn't want to stay in too close of a vicinity to Chuck. He had been in Paris for the last four days in order to catch up with some of the work that had piled up while he was away, and he was too tired to take Tristan out. Father and son were currently in the playroom, playing with all the new toys that Chuck had bought while he was away.

"'as your father told you about the renovations 'e is making to the vineyard's cellars?" I asked.

"No! Has Daddy _finally_ listened to my suggestion of expanding to include wine-tasting classes?"

"Oui, 'e 'ad some plans drafted. Let me get them, and you can choose which one you think is the best." I said before grabbing another pastry and fetching the drafts Harold's architect had sent over.

* * *

I could hear Tristan's laughter from down the hall once I reached the third floor, and the muffled sounds of metal gliding against wood told me that Tristan was playing with the new rocking horse Chuck had bought him. When he had brought it over to the house this morning Blair had made it clear that Tristan was not allowed to play on the wooden horse because he was too young. She was right of course; I had been looking into several toys to buy Tristan beforehand, and the almost €2000 rocking horse was recommended for children who were at least three years old.

I made my way to the playroom after I found the drafts to sneak a peek at the two Bass boys at play, but when I got there I only found Tristan. He wasn't sitting on the toy like I had guessed, instead he sat on the floor and pulled on the long horse hair, making the thing move.

"Chuck?" I called out, wondering where he could have gone, but knowing that he wouldn't have gone too far while leaving his son unattended.

He didn't answer so I made my way back into the hall, and I noticed that the door next to the playroom, the one that led to Blair's office, was open. I found him standing by the windows that overlooked the expansive lawn and gardens.

"Chuck, what are you doing in 'ere? Blair will kill you if she finds out that you---"

"Does she want a divorce, Roman?" He asked suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" I replied, perplexed by his question.

I was aware of the fact that he was having a difficult time being so close to his wife and having her continuously reject him, but I never would have guessed that he would wave the white flag so soon.

"I just wanted to know if I'm even making a difference. Does she really plan on forgiving me, or is she just giving me time to get comfortable before she pulls the rug out from under me?" He asked as he turned around to face me.

"'ow could you ask that? You know that she needs time to forgive you, so don't complain." I lectured.

His face morphed from a numb look to an absolutely lethal look within a second. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he practically marched right up to me and slapped the stack of papers he held against my chest.

"This is why I'm asking, Roman!"

I looked down at the papers. _**Supreme Court of the State of New York**_ were the first words I saw. _**Action for a Divorce**_ were the second. I gasped as if I had just been thrown into a pool of ice water. Blair had told neither Harold nor I about seeking a divorce from Chuck. I looked over the papers, and was surprised to see how much she had filled out. The first form was filled out, and the second, the _**Verified Complaint Action for Divorce**_, was as well. There was a handwritten letter written by Blair's friend that corroborated with her reason for divorce: adultery.

I looked back up to Chuck and found him once again by the windows. I followed his line of vision and saw that he was looking straight at the iron gazebo, and at his wife who was relaxing beneath it.

"It may not be what you think, Chuck." I said, trying to calm him.

He scoffed at me and continued to look out the window.

"She 'as not 'inted to wanting a divorce 'as she?"

"I wouldn't know, we haven't really talked."

"Well, she 'as not told us that she wants one. Look, they 'ave not been notarized or given a file number, so she 'as not even tried to submit them."

"That doesn't mean anything, she could still easily decide that she wants to file them. What the hell am I going to do?" He said as he ran his hands nervously through his hair.

"I thought everything was going well. Sure she wasn't talking to me as much as I hoped, but she didn't mind that I took Tristan out without her, or that I'm within thirty feet of her. But damn it, she had been considering a divorce this whole time."

I watched sadly as he continued to ramble on about what Blair could be up to as he tore himself away from the window and began to pace around her desk.

"'ow did you even find this?" I finally asked.

"I fell asleep on the rocking chair in the playroom, and when I woke up, Tristan wasn't there. I panicked and started looking for him because ever since he's learned how to crawl I was afraid he would end up crawling right down the stairs. I found him in here, going through Blair's briefcase and practically tearing her documents apart. Now that I know what she was hiding, I should have let him continue."

"Go and ask 'er about this, Chuck." I told him as I handed him back the divorce summons.

He looked slightly apprehensive at the thought of confronting Blair about it; he was probably afraid that hearing that she had plans on filing the papers.

"I know that you 'ear this too many times from us, but you 'ave to talk to 'er about this."

* * *

"How long have they been there?" Harold asked as he took a seat beside me on patio table.

"Almost three 'ours now. You missed the yelling and your petit fils and I 'ad to stop them from walking away." I replied, continuing to watch Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bass talk underneath the iron gazebo.

"At least they're not ripping each other into shreds." Harold asked, an amused smile on his face.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, 'arry. Blair 'ad stomped on Charles's foot at least two times.

Harold let out an amused laugh that caught the attention of the subjects of our conversation, and they both made their way towards us. Halfway across the lawn, Chuck stopped Blair with a gentle hand on her elbow and said something to her. They stared at one another for a few moments before she gave a curt nod.

"Well?" Harold asked.

"Well what?" Blair replied as she took the napping boy from my lap and held him against her chest.

"Have you two settled everything?"

The two of them shared another look, seemingly having a silent argument as to who would answer Harold.

"Yes, we have Harold. Blair and I talked about everything, and I mean _everything_. She told me that she didn't plan on filing the divorce papers, and I told her that I plan on finding an apartment in Paris so that I can continue to see the two of them and manage the company."

"He then began to list off every girl he was ever with since I turned seventeen so that I won't be surprised by any other skeletons in his closet."

"Is that what kept your conversation going for so long?" I asked, unable to help myself.

As expected, Chuck sent me a dark look while Blair laughed merrily at my barb.

"All jokes aside, why do you need to find a place all the way in Paris? That's going to be a lot of unnecessary travel. We have more than enough room here." Harold said, immediately stopping Blair's laughter and causing a Cheshire grin to form on Chuck's face.

"I would appreciate that, Harold. Thank you."

* * *

_Wednesday August 14, 2013_

"This is what happens when he misses his nap!"

"It's hardly my fault that he's so inquisitive. So he wanted to 'awaken his coordination and rhythmic functions', who am I to stop my child from bettering himself?"

I sighed at the loss of my peace and quiet. They had left only two hours ago to go to the Centre Culturel Saint-Exupéry, and I hadn't expected them back for another three. I should have known better and expected that something would cause them to cut their outing short. Ever since Chuck had checked out of the hotel he was staying at and moved into the spare room in the third floor, he and Blair had seemingly reverted back to their early college years and were constantly bickering.

"It wouldn't be so bad if he actually had more gross motor skills, like walking, to awaken. Did you honestly expect him to start dancing along with the activity coordinator? That whole exercise was meant for children who were at least four!"

"He was dancing! And clapping his hands! Don't tell me that isn't an accomplishment in gross motor skills, Blair."

I supposed that harmless, albeit loud and annoying, bickering was better than awkward silence. I watched from my place on the chaise-lounge as the two of them made their way into the salon. Blair held their whining son in her arms as Chuck followed closely behind her, his arms weighed down with her purse and several shopping bags.

"And while he honed his clapping skills he missed his nap time, and now he's cranky." Blair said as she took a seat on the chaise that faced the fireplace.

She tried to soothe the six-month-old, but he wouldn't stop squirming in her arms. Tristan continued to let out irritated whimpers as he rubbed his cornflower blue eyes. Chuck put down all the bags and took a seat beside his family, trying to calm the boy down by stroking his head slowly.

"That's not helping at all, Chuck. He isn't a dog. See if he'll settle down in his rocking cradle." Blair said with a frown as she handed Tristan over to his father.

Chuck let out his own exasperated sigh as he did as she told him and took the whining baby upstairs.

"Like mother, like son." I heard him mumble.

* * *

_Monday September 16, 2013_

"Blair? Are you alright, dear?" Harold asked as he knocked on the bathroom door for the third time.

The three of us had been playing with Tristan in his playroom when Blair had suddenly bolted up and out of the room and ran straight to the bathroom. At first we heard nothing but the sound of running water and the flush of the toilet, but after the third flush in five minutes Harold and I became extremely concerned.

A muffled 'I'm fine' came from behind the door, but that was quickly followed by another flush.

"We'll take you to the hospital if you aren't feeling well, darling." Harold suggested, knocking again while trying to turn the doorknob.

There was no reply, but she had turned off the faucet, plunging the bathroom into silence.

Harold and I exchanged worried glances, and I motioned to get the key that unlocked all the bathrooms in the house. He nodded and turned his attention back to the door.

As I made my way to our bedroom, I was met by Tristan, who was holding onto the doorframe to his playroom. He had taken his first steps four days ago, and was now seemingly the most agile toddler in the continent. We exchanged smiles as I took his hand and led him to where Harold and I kept the keys to the various locks in the house.

"Your maman is a strange woman, Tristan." I told him.

"Ma!" he replied, and I took it as a sign of agreement.

"Would you like me to call Chuck?" Harold asked as he took the key I handed to him and began to unlock the bathroom door.

"NO!" Blair shouted as she flung the door open.

"It's all _his_ fault!" she continued as she stomped her way down the stairs.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"It's all his fault!" she repeated.

"Yes, we understand that, but what exactly is he at fault for?"

"That mother chucker's knocked me up!"

* * *

_Tuesday October 29, 2013_

"Well, it's a girl." Chuck said as he and Blair entered the dining room.

The two of them had gone to their biweekly ultrasound appointment, and today was the day they had decided to find out the sex of the second Waldorf-Bass baby. Harold and I thought it was excessive to have an ultrasound every two weeks, but both Blair and Chuck were adamant about checking to make sure the baby was healthy. We were both a bit convinced that they just wanted as many pictures of the baby in utero as possible, but they did have the same border-paranoia when Blair was pregnant with Tristan.

"A mini-Blair!" Harold exclaimed as he embraced his daughter.

"God, I hope not." Chuck said as he took a seat next to Tristan's high chair.

"Do you mean you actually don't want une petite fille with her maman's brown curls and big, brown eyes?" I asked with a smirk.

Harold and I laughed as Chuck fidgeted in his seat; we all knew that he would love nothing more than a little girl who looked exactly like his Blair.

When he returned from his business trip to Lyon he was greeted by a frustrated wife who proceeded to pelt him with a mix of all the baby books she had bought and their son's toys. He had sought for sanctuary behind me as he asked Blair why she was so mad. She broke the news to him, and then almost broke his nose when Chuck froze in shock and didn't dodge the metal train that was flying his way.

"I still can't believe I'm pregnant again." Blair said woefully as she lifted her blouse and stared at the noticeable bump.

At fifteen weeks Blair's belly had ballooned and she looked like she was twenty weeks pregnant. She was still experiencing headaches, and she had been getting at least one nosebleed every week. Compared to the relatively easy pregnancy she had with Tristan, it was safe to say that Blair was miserable. Yet as much as she complained about being 'impregnated by the devil' a few months after her first baby's birth, the way she absentmindedly caressed her bump told us that she loved that child no matter the bad timing.

Chuck glanced at his wife with a look that was one part adoration and one part lust. I rolled my eyes at the realization that Chuck was thoroughly enjoying seeing Blair's breasts seemingly inflate, but I couldn't help but feel a small bit of pity for him because I knew that while they had reestablished their commitment to their marriage, Blair wasn't accepting him back in the way he wanted most.

She had told me a week after she realized that she was pregnant that she was afraid of creating even more permanent bonds between the two of them, lest they go their separate ways later in life. I tried to reassure her by telling her that this bébé was a sign that the two of them were meant to be a family, but I could still see the slight apprehension in her face.

"You've always said that you wanted to have our children be close in age so that they could relate to one another easily. It's perfect now, and I'm sure Tristan will be the best big brother." Chuck said with a slight smile.

I watched as Tristan attempted to climb out of high chair in a desperate attempt to reach his mother, and Blair helped him by lifting him out of his seat and placed him next to her.

"Do you honestly think it's perfect now, Chuck?" was Blair's snappy reply.

The silence that ensued was nothing if not awkward. Chuck sat stiffly in his chair, unable to look Blair in the eye, while she looked surprised that she actually said that. Harold was shaking his head in disappointment, and I was trying to think of something to say to lighten the situation.

"Bass."

The four of us stared at the little boy who was now gently rubbing both hands back and forth on Blair's gravid belly. I could see Harold's mouth form into an amused smile while Chuck smirked at his son's first word.

"That's right Tristan, there's a Bass in there." he said while he made eye contact with his wife, who was sporting a proud smile.

* * *

_Sunday December 29, 2013_

It was quiet when I arrived home. Earlier this morning Chuck, Blair, and Tristan had brought their friends to the airport, and Harold had taken the Roses to his vineyard. I had a lunch rendezvous with an old friend from my modeling days, but I didn't expect to be the first to come home.

Christmas had been a magnificent affair. Tristan's godparents, Nathaniel Archibald and Serena van der Woodsen came three days before Christmas Eve and they had brought countless presents for their godchild. Tristan received everything from a new designer wardrobe to a silver rocket ship coin bank. His gift had been the Karl Lagerfeld teddy bear Nathaniel had bought him. Upon seeing the stoic looking bear in its protective plastic casing, Tristan had clawed at the container. Blair had tried to explain to him that the toy was a collectible, but the ten-month-old hardly understood and started bawling. She eventually relented and opened the case, handing the bear over to her son who then proceeded to attempt to eat the toy. Harold took plenty of photos of Tristan gnawing at the Lagerfeld bear's suited shoulder while the rest of us laughed. Chuck eased Blair's anxiety over the ruined bear by telling her he'd buy another to replace it when Tristan managed to eat all of its clothes.

There was also no shortage in presents for the future Bass princess. Eleanor had bought her first granddaughter what seemed to be every baby item from Tiffany and Company. Blair was delighted to see the mountain of distinctive blue boxes and thanked her mother and Cyrus for the sterling silver feeding spoon, comb, rattle, etc.

As I walked down the hall I heard a little voice talking. I opened the door to Tristan's nursery to find him having a nonsense conversation with his Karl bear. He looked fresh from his nap as he sat contently in his crib with the toy in his lap, and when he heard me he quickly stood and reached out for me.

"Gra-pear!" Tristan called out and I happily lifted him out of his crib.

"Bonjour, mon petit prince." I said greeted with a kiss to his cheeks.

He kissed me sloppily in return, and cuddled him for a few minutes before I set him down to the floor. He made his way over to the stuffed toys in the corner of the room, and when I felt sure that he wouldn't suddenly dart off somewhere, I headed towards Blair's bedroom. I knew that she had to be home, she told me earlier that she had no other plans aside from dropping off Nathaniel and Serena.

I was about to knock on her bedroom door when a long drawn out moan suddenly emanated from inside the room.

"Oh God, Chuck…" I heard Blair say from behind the closed door, and I felt my face instantly redden with embarrassment.

"Mmm, Blair…" was Chuck's muffled response.

I immediately turned around and headed back to Tristan's nursery, determined to pretend I didn't hear what I just did. It was safe to assume that Blair had finally taken him back.

* * *

_Tuesday January 28, 2013_

"L'appartement est très beau, Blair." I said as Harold and I entered their new Paris home.

The two had decided to move to Paris when they realized that there wasn't enough wall to insulate the sounds of their… marriage. Chuck had immediately searched every available penthouse in the city, and it was only two weeks ago that Blair approved of this one.

The apartment was located in the 16e arrondissement*, and was close to the nursery school Blair intended to enroll Tristan in when he turned three. It had five bedrooms, two salons, a large cuisine, and a magnificent view of the Eiffel tower. Chuck had bought it fully furnished, and Blair had been ecstatic to find out that Alberto Pinto had been the interior designer. She demanded that they move in before Tristan's first birthday, so that they could throw the birthday party here.

"No, Mister Tristan! Babies do not hide in fireplace!" Dorota exclaimed as she ran after the little boy.

After Blair had told Eleanor that she and Chuck were going to be staying in Paris for at least two years, Dorota was handed off to her and was once more in charge of the baby Bass. Both Blair and Chuck had seemed grateful for Dorota's presence, neither would say it, but they both dreaded the impending late night baby feedings.

"It really is beautiful, isn't it? I've already got the little princess's room ready for her arrival, and Tristan seems to like his new room." Blair said as she took a seat on the checkered sofa.

"I have to admit dear, the house just isn't the same without you three making a ruckus." Harold teased.

"Oh, Daddy. You don't have to worry about the deafening silence because I fully intend to visit everyday until I pop this one out." Blair replied as she stroked her extremely swollen belly.

Chuck gave a her a look of disapproval, but didn't say anything. He was well aware of the fact that he could not force his wife to do anything she had no interest in doing. Instead of restricting her planned visits, he suggested that Blair only visit every other day, while Harold and I came to the apartment on the other days.

"It's a better plan Blair and you know it. There's much more to do here than out in the countryside anyways. You and Roman can spend your days buying all the baby clothes Paris has to offer." Chuck said.

"I see your point. Plus, aside from shopping, I have to do some research on who is the best midwife in the city."

I looked at Blair with what I hoped to be a look of extreme surprise and confusion. Midwife? Was Blair Cornelia Waldorf Bass actually considering delivering her daughter here in the penthouse?

I wasn't the only one who was surprised by her statement because I saw matching expressions on both Harold and Chuck's faces.

"Midwife, Blair? Are you crazy?!" Chuck exploded after recovering from his surprise.

"What's wrong with it, Chuck? European women do it all the time, and you know, while in Rome…"

"This is the twenty first century, not the first! Why would you risk yourself and the baby when there are plenty of hospitals around?"

"Don't get all paranoid on me, Bass. You know nothing bad is going to happen to either one of us. Besides, I've already had one baby in a hospital, it's time to try the other delivery method." Blair said in a way that said the debate was over and she had won.

"Yes, but the other method doesn't have drugs. Remember how much you loved your epidural?"

* * *

_Saturday April 19, 2013_

We had gotten the call from Chuck at six in the morning, and by the time we arrived at their home, Blair was waddling around, cursing at her husband while her midwife reminded her to take deep breaths. Both Harold and I were amused at how the two of them were handling the birth of their second child; Chuck was eyeing the decanter of scotch from his seat in the salon, while Blair was pacing slowly throughout the home, muttering to herself about how she was done having children.

"Do you need anything, Blair?" I asked her as I followed her down the hall.

The sun had already crossed a fourth of its daily journey through the sky, and Blair was looking increasingly haggard.

"The jaws of life, or anything that will get her out of me sooner." She said as she rubbed her belly.

"Vous êtes presque prêt, Madame Bass." The midwife informed us as we entered the salon where Harold and Chuck were waiting.

I watched as Chuck jumped from his seat and helped Blair recline on the chaise-lounge, sitting down behind her once she was properly seated. He ran his hands across her stomach, and she leaned back against him.

"Do you want to go to the hospital now?"

Blair looked up at her husband and gave him a withering glare.

"No! I told you we're having a home birth!" she said as she tried to wiggle her way out of his embrace.

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the sight of her; she looked like a turtle struggling to turn over. I stopped laughing when she I saw her flop back against Chuck with a gasp of pain.

"Ow, damnit!"

In between coddling Blair and avoiding her slaps for us to get away from her, Harold and I heard Tristan call out for his mother down the hall.

"Maman! Up!"

That was his usual way of expressing the desire to be picked up, and I knew that he would soon throw a tantrum if his request fell on deaf ears.

"I will get 'im." I said as I made a quick exit out of the salon.

As I expected, Tristan was standing in his crib, eyes focused on the door, waiting for someone to retrieve him.

"Gra-pear!" He exclaimed when he saw me.

I swept him up in my arms and covered his face with kisses, making him giggle with delight.

"Are you ready pour ton petit soeur?"

"Oui!"

After he had spoken his first word Blair had told me to continue speaking to him in French. She had hoped that he would become fluent, and he had progressed wonderfully. Chuck seemed slightly peeved that his son knew more French than English, but I reminded him that every child should know more then one language. He conceded only when I teased that as a Bass boy and future Casanova, Tristan would benefit from knowing the language of love.

Five hours later Harold, Tristan, Dorota, and I were huddled by the doors of the master bedroom. We all heard the cries of the newborn rip through the air a few minutes ago, and we were all eager to see the newest Bass. The doors opened soon enough and the midwife led us into the room. Blair was laying on the bed, her hair damp with sweat and wearing only a bathrobe. In her arms she held a swathed bundle that let out soft mewls. Chuck was sitting beside her on the other side of the bed, and he didn't even look up at our entrance, his gaze was solidly fixed on his daughter.

"Oh Blair, she's gorgeous." Harold said as he finally saw his granddaughter.

"Did you expect anything less, 'arry?" I asked as I got a peek of the little girl.

She was looking up at her grandpère with wide, unfocused blue eyes. She already had a head full of light brown curls, and I could tell that she already had her mother's pouty lips.

"Oh że jest piękna, Miss Blair!"** Dorota exclaimed when she saw the little girl.

Tristan tugged on my pants and raised his arms up in a motion to be picked up. I laid him on the bed and he crawled over to see what everyone was looking at.

"This is your sister, Tristan." Chuck said as he propped the boy up for better look.

Tristan's face lit up when he finally saw the baby. He leaned down and gently pat his sister on the cheek with a chubby hand.

"Soeur." He said as he looked up at all of us with a radiant smile.

I saw Dorota discreetly wipe at her eyes at the sight, and Harold cooed at how well the two got along.

"So what did you decide to name the little princess?" he asked.

Chuck and Blair shared a quick glance at one another before he answered.

"Evangeline Cecilia Waldorf Bass."

* * *

* 16e arrondissement is the sixteenth district in Paris. It's the west most district, and the largest of the twenty districts.

** "Oh, she's beautiful, Miss Blair.!"


	7. Into the Wild :part 1: An Introduction

**AN:** Slightly revised because I forgot to add a very integral aspect to the story. Oops. And I also fixed a few grammatical errors. I still don't use a beta so please point out any more errors. Thanks!

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* * *

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**Chapter Seven: Into the Wild: An Introduction and the first two days**

* * *

"_Childhood is the fiery furnace in which we are melted down to essentials and that essential shaped for good." _- Katherine Anne Porter

* * *

_Thursday, March 8, 2029_

"As much as I know you all are excited for your spring break, I'm going to have to ruin your fantasies of frolicking around the beach by reminding you all that you have your next paper due the week after we get back from break."

The sounds of exasperated sighs filled the classroom, and I rolled my eyes. They act as if they hadn't known about the observation assignment.

"Remember, all you have to do is observe an adolescent, it can be more than one if you want, for a total of twenty four hours. And trust me, there are a variety of ways you can do this so don't give me that face, Riley." Dr. Lindemann said as he gave a pointed look to the idiot who sat in the front.

"The report should include your thorough observation notes and a comparison of your target adolescent's behaviors with the developmental theories we've studied so far. Now that I've said all that, class is dismissed."

* * *

"It's not fair, you know."

"We both know who you're going to observe, and you'll get an A because of them."

I stopped walking to look at my green-eyed friend, unable to keep the goofy-looking smile off of my face.

"I can't help that my family members are deeply entrenched in complicated and dramatic lives. It's a genetic predisposition that we have to live with."

Margot shook her head and nudged my shoulder with her own as we broke out into laughter and continued our way back home.

"Still, I'm jealous. The only person who fit's the criteria that I've got easy access to is boring and follows _your_ niece around like a puppy."

"Margot, don't say that about your sister! She can't help but become Constance's side-kick. Those Waldorf-Basses just have personalities that scream, 'Serve me, plebe!'"

It wasn't that I was trying to insult my younger relatives, but what I said was honestly true. They had a habit of bossing people around while simultaneously charming them, which resulted in them getting their way with little to no protests.

"Nothing is going to be more fun than observing the daily lives of Tristan and Evangeline Bass." Margot said, getting a little wistful at the end.

"You say fun, I say exhausting."

"So when are you going to start?" She asked as I opened the door to our shared apartment on the Upper West Side.

"As soon as possible. I'm thinking of spending the break with them, so I can observe the two while they're at school." I replied before making my way to my bedroom.

I figured that I might as well pack since I knew Blair wouldn't object to me staying over. I rifled through my closet and pulled out enough outfits to last me a month, but I had a feeling that I would need as many options as I could give myself. Tristan and Evey were _very _prominent in the social scene, and I knew that a good part of my paper was going to come from whatever happened next weekend.

Whenever I thought about it, I always laughed. Two of Manhattan's most well known celebutantes weren't allowed to go out past seven in the evening on school nights. They only had Friday and Saturday to go out with their friends and do the debauched things rich kids did. It was a rule that Blair and Chuck had made and put into action whenever one of the kids hit junior high, and so far they've abided it completely.

After I finished packing I put the suitcase by the door and began to outline my project. I knew that one day's worth of observations couldn't capture the complex comportments of Tristan Étienne and Evangeline Cecilia Bass. Margot had made fun about my over-achieving personality, but it really was a two-for-one deal. The two were each other's best friend and were practically welded at the hip, always had been.

I remember when I first met my niece. It had been almost a year since Blair had taken Tristan and moved to France to live with her father in Reims, but when my parents and I got there, we stayed in the new penthouse in Paris. I hadn't known that Blair and Chuck were having marital problems back then, so I figured that they were just taking a long vacation.

Evangeline was the prettiest baby my five-year-old eyes had ever seen. She looked like a porcelain doll with her big blue eyes and her light brown corkscrew curls. Her hair had turned a shockingly bright blonde after a few weeks, and both Chuck and Blair had been more than a little surprised. Harold had said that little Evey was bound to stand out in her life, so it was only fitting that she stood out in a family of dark haired people.

Mother and Daddy had brought mountains of presents for the new baby, but she didn't seem interested at all. The only thing that could keep her attention was her big brother.

Tristan had grown a lot in the year he was in France. He was able to walk and talk, and he finally started to outgrow his whiney behavior. I remember being thoroughly put out by the fact that he didn't seem to want to play with me half as much as he wanted to play with his sister. He had always been my favorite toy to play with, but Daddy had told me that since I was much older than them I was now the big girl and that meant that I had to watch over them.

I remember babysitting them with Dorota; we would put Evey, in her basket, on the floor and Tristan would dangle random toys over her, trying to make her laugh. The two of us would play peek-a-boo with her, and she would giggle with glee. She was a happy baby for the most part, and I knew even back then that nothing could have made my sister and her husband happier than that.

* * *

_Sunday, March 11, 2029_

"Good afternoon, Dorota." I said as she opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Miss --" She said before I walked passed her and into the lavish Bass home.

"Blair? Chuck?!" I called out as I walked down the hall, heading towards the living room.

No one responded, and I knew that they were probably having frantic rabbit sex in their bedroom. It was Sunday morning and that meant Tristan was hosting his weekly Sunday brunch. He always took his siblings with him, giving their parents the gift of a morning alone.

"Alright you two! You have a guest, so it's time to close the muffin shop!" I said as I knocked hard on their bedroom door.

It was silent for a few moments before I heard the shuffling of fabric. Two minutes later a very disheveled Blair opened the door, wearing only her dress robe to hide her bits and pieces.

"Damn it, Yale. What's so important that you've decided to interrupt our alone time? You know how much we need our alone time!" She said, looking me dead in the eye with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised expectantly.

Chuck suddenly appeared behind her, equally disheveled, but with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Yes, Yale? What's so important? We were in the middle of a very interesting exp--"

"Chuck!" My sister scolded as she elbowed him in the gut.

I never knew why she tried to censor him while I was around. I'm twenty-years-old for God's sake, and I'm pretty familiar with what went on behind closed doors. Granted, I didn't know what Chuck Bass was into, but I've heard stories. Evidently, my brother-in-law is a legend amongst the man-whores of high society.

"I was hoping I could live with you all for the next week. I have a project to do in my Human Behavior class and I need to observe an adolescent. I figured you two had some of the most interesting kids on the whole island, so here we are." I explained in on breath.

The two of them looked at me with a marginal amount of amusement.

"So you're going to be following around Tristan? Or Evey?" Blair asked.

"Both. I figured the more, the merrier." I replied with an enthusiastic nod.

They shared a quick glance, doing that silent conversation thing I've only ever seen in the movies.

"Alright. You can bring your stuff and put them in the guest room. A psychological analysis of our children should be fun, shouldn't it, Chuck?"

Chuck nodded in agreement before suddenly grabbing a hold of his wife's waist and kicking me out.

"Why don't you go and unpack? The kids won't be home until five." he said before closing the door on me.

I heard the moans start up from behind the door about five seconds later.

* * *

"Maman, we're home!" a young girl's voice called out as I heard little footsteps running around.

True to their word, the Chucklets were home by five. I had taken the five hours of free time to unpack, relax, and catch up with Dorota. It had felt like ages since I got to spend time with her, and my Polish was extremely rusty.

"Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good time?" I heard Blair asked as I neared the living room.

"Oui, Maman! We ate so much food downstairs, then we went to Coney Island!" Isaac exclaimed from his place in his mother's arms, all while waving around his newest stuffed toy.

Little Isaac definitely held the title of happiest baby in the 212; he always had a large smile on his face. He squealed into his mother's ear when he saw me from over her shoulder.

"Yalee!" He cried out.

"Hey, little man! How are you?" I asked as I took him from Blair.

"Good. We went to Coney Island and Bea won me my puppy."

He shoved the plush toy into my face and laughed when I tried to avoid getting synthetic fur in my mouth.

"Isaac be nice to Yalee." Bea said as she took the small boy from my arms.

I gave her a smile in thanks and took a seat in the living room.

"I'm always nice!" Isaac replied.

Bea rolled her eyes at her little brother's comment because everyone knew that Isaac Dorian Waldorf Bass was a little hell raiser. It was expected that Blair would get a call at least once every two weeks about how Isaac had pulled another prank on one of his classmates. She's lucky that his school was close to her office; the Lycée was located on 72nd between 5th and Madison, which was only a three minute limo drive from her 57th and Park Ave. office.

"What are you doing here, Yale?" Bea asked me after giving me a hug.

"It's Columbia's spring break and I have to do an observation on teenagers so I've decided that your brother and sister are going to be my lab rats." I said.

"So you're going to be staying the whole week?"

I always liked how enthusiastic she was about me spending time with her. Constance Beatrice was a girl who loved spending time with her family. When she was younger, she would always write her English reports about either our last big family get together or the last family vacation.

"That's the plan."

"Miss Bea, Miss Yale, come, it's dinner time." Dorota announced as she popped into the living room before quickly walking back to the dining room.

* * *

Dinner with my sister and her family was always fun, everyone would tell funny anecdotes about their day all while teasing one another. It was a strange sight when you consider the fact that they were Manhattan's premiere society family, but I could never imagine them having dinner any other way. Even when the occasional fight broke out between them, they would always try to make dinner as pleasant as possible. Blair had once told me that she wanted her family to always enjoy the time they spent together, and dinner was the one thing that they always had.

"And then Bea beated the other girls playing!" Isaac said as he retold, for the fifth time, the story of how his sister won him his beloved stuffed puppy.

"Did you say thank you, little man?" Chuck asked.

"Yes, of course I did Papa." he replied, and we laughed at how scandalized he looked.

"So you never told me why you wanted to spend your precious spring break here with boring old us, Yale." Tristan said to me as he took a sip of his Cabernet.

"I'm gracing you with my presence because I need to observe you and Evey for my psychology class." I said before fully explaining my project.

"It is okay for me to follow you two around, right?"

The two exchanged a quick glance at one another before they nodded.

"Of course it's alright, Yale, but I don't think you'll get much out of us. As fascinating as everyone thinks we are, we really are quite boring." Evey said.

"Until the weekend hits, and Victrola opens its doors to the masses!" Tristan exclaimed as raised his glass of Cabernet, tapping it against his father's raised glass.

Chuck's sixteenth birthday present to his eldest child had been his precious night club. I had never seen Tristan so openly _giddy_ about anything since he became a big, bad teenager. Almost immediately after receiving the club he closed it temporarily and began renovations. He had told us that he wanted to reinvent it's image, but that was it. This weekend's reopening was going to be the first time any of us would see the new Victrola.

"We all now how excited you are about this, darling, but please, don't risk spilling your drink on the table cloth… Dorota hates wine stains." Blair said.

Tristan rolled his eyes at his mother, but his smile told us that he understood her worry. If I were him, I would spill some of the red drink anyway. Dorota may be aging, but she enjoyed nothing more than getting rid of a tough stain.

After listening to Bea's story about her last Italian lesson and how Simon Davies, her classmate, was stalking her, Blair cleared her throat.

"Your father and I will be going to the Hanokoaope estate for our spring vacation." She said.

"Philip's finished refurnishing it already?" Eve asked as she cut into her lamb shank.

"Yes, he called a week ago and he said that all the furniture had been moved in." Blair answered with a sharp look directed at her first born.

Last month Tristan had thought it was a good idea to fly half of his class out to Hawaii and to throw a party on their property in the big island. Needless to say that the estate there ended up thoroughly trashed.

"I'm sure you'll have a fun time, Maman." Tristan said sweetly.

"But should we prepare the nursery, just in case?" We all know hat happened the last time you two spend you private vacation there." He teased as he gave a pointed look to the little boy who sat beside his mother, happily molding his mashed potatoes with his spoon.

"Haha, Tristan." Blair replied while rolling her eyes.

It was always nice watching my sister interact with her children. They had such an easy relationship.

"You know it's a legitimate question, Maman." Evey said, joining in the teasing.

"I don't plan on having any more children, you four are more than enough work." Blair said with an indignant huff.

"Well then you better glove up, Papa because we all know that the both of you hadn't exactly planned on any of us." Tristan said with a smirk.

Chuck replied with a smirk of his own until he caught the death glare Blair was sending him.

"All right you two, that's enough. Don't tease your mother." He said in what I'm sure he thought was a reprimanding tone.

The man had never really scolded his children for anything. He usually took the easy route and let Blair dole out the punishment.

"So are we going to shoot the new campaign before or after your vacation?" Evey asked.

"I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you! Your Uncle Aaron called me this afternoon and told me that he would have to move the shoot up to tomorrow after school because he's going to fly out to Dubai later this week. You two don't have anything planned, do you?"

Both Tristan and Evey shook their heads and told their mother that tomorrow would work.

The shoot was for Blair's newest collection for her men's and women's line. They were her newest fashion line, but they were quickly becoming her most popular. She had started off with BWBaby, her line for infants and young children, using Tristan and Evangeline as her inspiration. After Constance was born Blair added Queen B, which was her junior's line. It was only three years ago that Blair created EnVy and Monsieur. As with all of her other lines, she used her children as inspiration. Isaac's BWBaby photos were currently circulating in W magazine, and Bea had pictures in both Elle Girl and Teen Vogue.

Tristan was the face of all of his mother's fashion campaigns, and as much as Chuck complained about Blair 'whoring off their children', I knew that they wouldn't voluntarily stop modeling. They were Basses after all, _Waldorf_ Basses at that, and they thrived on attention. That's not to say that they sought the spotlight, but they certainly didn't shun it. It was another thing Chuck and Blair had taught their children: never shy away from the limelight, instead use your inherent charisma and good looks to make a positive name for yourself.

"Please tell Viola about it, honey." Blair said to Evey.

Viola Giovanna Safra was Evey's closest friend ouside of the family. The two had known each other for nine years, having gone to Lycée Francais de New York together. Instead of continuing through high school at Lycée, Viola had enrolled to Constance so she could continue to go to the same school as Evey. I had never spent too much time with her, so I only really knew her from the stories the family told. I knew that she was a Brazilian heiress who would occasionally fly back to Rio for a few weeks, despite the fact that it was the middle of the semester. I also knew that she was practically a third daughter to Blair, and that she had been another muse for the EnVy line.

Evey would say that Viola was the Yin to her Yang, and Blair played that up in their shoots. It worked out well, too. Evey's features couldn't support a heavy amount of makeup, and her personality radiated too much to really do anything too moody. It was mostly Viola who had the dark and edgy editorials while Evangeline had the more whimsical photo spreads. It worked out perfectly, and both girls managed to not tread on the other's ego when it came to who got more shots printed.

* * *

After dinner the offspring went to the watch a movie in the home theatre and Blair and Chuck went to the living room to spend some time together. I couldn't help but realize that as far as UES parents went, my sister and brother-in-law were pretty close to The ideal. They were well informed about what was happening in the lives of their children, and they tried to always be there for them to talk to. Of course there were times where they would go off into overprotective-parent mode, but they tried to keep the flare-ups to a minimum.

I remember when I was in high school and the incoming freshmen would talk about Tristan and Evey. They would talk about how cool they were, and how lucky they were for having such relatable parents. Agnes Townsend had summarized it with the phrase, "Fabulous people have fabulous kids."

After their movie was over, Tristan, Evey, and Bea embraced their parents goodnight before going to their individual bedrooms. Blair and Chuck took the sleepy Isaac to his nursery to tuck him in and I watched from the doorway as she sang _Dodo, l'enfant do_ to the little boy. He was still pretty coherent when she finished singing the lullaby so she and Chuck took turns reading _Le Roi Babar_.

It was funny to hear how much Chuck had improved in his French over the years. While he never perfected the 'R's, he was now moderately fluent in the language. I kissed Isaac goodnight after Blair and Chuck did, and I couldn't help but smile at the adorable little boy who looked so much like his father.

"Goodnight, Yale." Chuck said to me as he ascended the stairs to his home office.

Chuck was a workaholic, and before going to bed he would go up to his office to work on whatever else he needed to do. My mother had said that the Bass business genes had finally kicked in and that was why he always worked, but I was convinced that he pulled in the late hours at his home office because he didn't leave as early as he should in the mornings. Whenever I slept over here I could almost always hear something going on in the master bedroom in the early morning hours.

"Goodnight, Chuck. Goodnight, Blair." I said to the both of them.

Blair greeted me goodnight in return and it wasn't thirty seconds later when I heard her gossiping with Serena on the phone from down the hall.

* * *

As I walked down the hall that connected to each of the Chucklets' rooms, I glanced at Bea's opened door. She was tossing different types of white blouses onto her bed while debating with Dorota as to which she should wear in Polish. Little Bea was the family polyglot, so much so that I think she could get a job at the UN if she applied next week.

Tristan's door was closed and I could hear him playing his guitar. I didn't bother to knock on his door because he was always much too focused whenever he was playing an instrument.

"Evey?" I called out as I knocked on her door.

"Come in, it's open!"

When I entered her bedroom she was laying on her bed, leaning back against the headboard with her laptop resting on her thighs.

"I just wanted to say goodnight, even though I'm sure that you aren't going to sleep anytime soon."

She laughed and nodded her head in agreement before she put her computer on the bed and motioned for me to sit next to her.

"It's still early, Yale. No need to say goodnight yet." She said while picking up one of the magazines that were stacked on her nightstand.

The Bass children were four of the most magazine obsessed people I had ever known. Each had at least five subscriptions, and they all varied in topic. I spied Evey's magazine rack and saw issues of WWD, Vogue, Q, Harvard Design, Empire, and American Artist.

If a person were to look at my blonde niece, no one would think that she was an architecture junkie. She had a few framed drafts hanging on her wall (one of which is the renovated design of the penthouse), but in Truth Evey was a lover of all things art. The wall that led to her personal bathroom and walk-in closet was covered with photos of musicals and operas, concerts, fashion shows, and buildings. She even had some of Blair's past season EnVy sketches on her wall.

"According to this article, the nineteen-twenties flapper look is coming back in style." She said as she flopped onto her stomach, completely engrossed in the magazine.

I didn't say anything, and I highly doubt that she saw my mindless nod of agreement while I continued to take in the details of her room.

A person's room was a direct reflection of their personality.

Aside from her massive wall of photos, her passion for art was clearly stated with the easel that was standing next to the doors leading to her balcony. On it was a half finished Rococo movement styled oil painting of her bedroom view of Central Park.

Next to the easel she had her giant bookshelf crammed with hardback classics, some of which were first edition. Evey was an avid reader, but it was no surprise considering her first word was "Livre."

I moved her laptop back so I could lay back, and I noticed that she had Photoshop up.

"When did you take these pictures?" I asked as I looked through the images.

"Last weekend during Bea's shoot with Uncle Aaron. We went to Catskill." She replied casually.

It never stopped amazing me how talented they all were, and I couldn't' help but feel jealous. My nieces and nephews were like a breed of super-people.

"I wanted to test the new camera Papa bought me." She continued, glancing at the expensive Nikon that sat on her desk.

We continued to lounge in her room, going through her various magazines until Bea came in.

"Hey, Evey. I just wanted to give you back your book." She said as she put _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ back in its proper place on the massive redwood bookcase.

"What did you think about it? Did you enjoy the story?" Evey asked.

Bea took a moment to think. Out of all the Chucklets, she was definitely the philosopher.

"I enjoyed it. It was tragic but beautiful, and it depicted the consequences of the characters' actions well. It also kind of reminded me of the UES." She answered with a soft giggle at the end.

We laughed at the last comment; we all knew how Upper East Side society could be like an overwrought dramatic play.

* * *

"Finished jamming already?" I asked as I walked into Tristan's room.

He rolled his eyes at me from his place on his couch.

"Please don't ever call it that again." He said while casually turning the page of his magazine.

He was reading the latest issue of The Economist, and I couldn't help but giggle at how much of a nerd he really was. As much as others talked about him, they didn't know how he liked to read The Economist, Forbes, and Fortune. They also didn't know how he was practically obsessed with fashion, how he would pore over every issue of GQ and Esquire. I used to tease him about it, but I figured that he couldn't help himself. After all, the apple didn't fall far from the tree, and Chuck Bass was one of the most stylish men out there.

"I know it would be redundant to ask, but are you nervous for the grand reopening?" I asked as I took a seat beside him on the black leather couch.

He gave a nonchalant shrug before tossing the magazine onto his desk.

"I think that by Friday, my nerves will be too frazzled to even work anymore, so I should be fine." He joked.

"See, that's what I don't understand. Why are you even nervous? Don't tell me that you actually _care_ about what your lame little classmates think."

"It's not them I care about…"

Suddenly the light bulb turned on.

"You're scared about what your dad will think!" I exclaimed with a short giggle.

He shot me a dirty look before getting off the couch and pacing in front of his bed.

"I'm not scared! I'm just worried. What if he thinks I changed the club too much? Victrola was the first investment that he ever made, and I don't want him to think that I'll run it to the ground."

He continued to practically march back and forth across the span of his room, and after five minutes of hearing him rant and pace, I stopped him.

"For the love of God, Tristan, relax! You're dad isn't going to think that you've ruined Victrola. He isn't going to care."

"Oh, thanks. You're _so_ understanding." He said, giving me an annoyed sneer.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I'm just saying that your dad isn't going to doubt your judgment, and he's not going to anticipate the club's failure. He knows how much of a business nut you are. Hell, _anyone_ would know how much of a business nut you are if they ever saw your room!"

His room, like his sister's, had framed drafts and photos of several Bass Industries buildings interspersed with pictures of his family. He even had a five foot tall file cabinet next to his desk that contained every document that had to do with his recently inherited business.

"You've worked on it's renovation nonstop, and he knows that. You are Tristan Bass. Your grandfather was a self-made billionaire, and your father turned those billions into trillions. You've inherited enough of both of their physical features, so I'm sure you've also inherited their business savvy." I said, and I was glad to see that my words of positive reinforcement seemed to help build up his self confidence.

"God, I regret bringing the topic up. Of all the stupid things to worry about, your father's support really isn't one of them. Now I'm going to go so you can get your beauty sleep. Tomorrow's a big day for you, Mini Mogul!" I teased as I pinched his cheeks and darted out of the room, not waiting for him to retaliate.

* * *

Everyone was up and ready for breakfast by seven the next morning. This was one of the things that irked me about the Basses: they were damn morning people. I slowly crawled out of bed and trudged my way to the en suite bathroom. After I made myself some-what presentable, I went downstairs and into the kitchen. Breakfast was always eaten in the kitchen's breakfast nook, and every morning they had a buffet-style breakfast of assorted breads, juices, pastries, cheeses, and cold cuts.

"Look who's up. Finally decided to grace us with your presence?" Tristan asked as he took a bite out of his pain au chocolat.

"No one appreciates being made fun of in the morning, Steve." I said, smiling as he blanched at his hated nickname.

I grabbed my plate and filled it with danishes and freshly sliced ham before I took my seat in between Evey and Bea. All four of the Bass children were already dressed in their school uniform. Tristan was wearing the familiar St. Jude's uniform of a light yellow shirt, red striped tie, navy blue blazer, and khaki trousers. It was eerie to see how much he looked like Chuck when he was dressed for school.

Evey was wearing something that did not at all resemble the Constance Billard uniform, aside from the navy cross tie. It really amazed me at how lenient the school was with their uniforms; I myself never wore the complete school uniform. I don't think I even knew what it was… maybe it was just the cross tie that was mandatory. Aside from the ubiquitous accessory, she had on a pretty ruffle collared, white button blouse with an indigo plaid skirt that hit mid thigh. Her hair was set in its classic curls, which mirrored her mother's brunette locks. Evey had on her newest pair of designer mary-jane style heels in mustard yellow. I didn't know why she wore them, she was already tall, and she looked like an Amazon when you added the three inch heels. To finish it all of she had a mustard yellow trench coat slung carelessly on the back of her seat.

Like her big sister, Bea chose to deviate from her school uniform, but not by much. She attended the British International School of New York, and they were strict about their uniform policy. But like a true Bass she broke the rules if she didn't like them. Her white blouse didn't look too different from the plain button down that was mandatory. It was frillier and more fitted, but it still had the peter pan collar. She wore the obligatory red plaid skirt with white knee high socks and black mary-jane flats. Her grey blazer was draped carefully on the back of her chair, and a matching red plaid headband peaked from her dark brown curls.

Little Isaac was wearing the standard boys uniform of the Lycée Fracais de New York: plain white button down, grey trousers, and a dark blue blazer.

"Good morning, Bass family!" A female voice called out from down the hall.

"Vi!" Evey said as she greeted her friend at the doorway

"Good morning, Viola." Chuck said as the two girl's made their way back to the table.

Viola laid the doughnut box that she brought with her on the table.

"Good morning Uncle Chuck, Aunt Blair."

"What did you bring today?" Evey asked as she eagerly opened the cardboard box.

"The classics: crème brüleé, tres leches, strawberry glaze, blackout."

"Oh, yum!" Evey exclaimed before she grabbed a doughnut with each hand.

"Which to do I eat first?" She pondered out loud as she stared at her two options.

"Alternate." Viola answered with a small smirk.

"Always the thinker, Vi."

With that, Evangeline took a large bit out of the crème brüleé doughnut in her right hand.

Watching Evey eat doughnuts was like watching a lion take down a gazelle. She was quick and she ate her enthusiastically. Chuck and Tristan had identical looks of amusement on their face as they watched her eat her favorite food. No one in the family could explain why she loved them so much, but Evangeline had a deep and unfailing addiction to the fatty food. Blair looked slightly disgusted at how quickly her daughter packed away doughnut after doughnut, but she didn't say anything. After years of watching the two girl's gorge themselves with the deep fried ticket-to-a-heart-attack, she knew that her disapproving look wouldn't stop them.

"Slow down and chew your food, Princess. It's not going to run away from you." Chuck said as Evey reached for another strawberry glaze.

"I try, Papa, but you know how I get when it comes to doughnuts." Evey replied with an impish smile.

"Well you better take the rest of those with you because you five need to head out to school before you're all late." Blair said as she wiped the remaining croissant crumbs off of Isaac's face.

I looked at my watch and realized that she was right. We only had forty minutes to drop off Bea at her school down at the Waterside plaza before driving back up to Constance/St. Jude's.

"Oh damn it, I forgot my phone." Evey said before sprinting up the stairs to retrieve her cell phone.

"Hurry up, Evey! I'm going to be late!" Bea yelled impatiently.

The four of us stood in the gallery waiting for Evangeline to come downstairs.

"You wouldn't be late if you went to Lycée!" Evey teased as she put on her trench and grabbed her bag.

Bea's decision to go to school at BISNY was something Tristan and Evangeline always teased her about. It really didn't matter much now anyway, Bea was in Year 9 and she would be attending Constance in the fall.

As we were saying our goodbyes to Chuck, Blair, and Isaac, the sound of three phones all chiming at once got our attention.

"It's a video message," Evey said as she opened the message and hit play.

"Good morning, boys and girls." A generic sounding female voice greeted while the video showed the speaker walking down the ever familiar Park Ave.

"Today marks the beginning of a new, or rather _revisited_, era for Constance and St. Jude's. Why, you may ask? Because today is the day that Gossip Girl returns to the Upper East Side. Who is Gossip Girl? Ask Mommy and Daddy, kiddies, and don't forget to take notes."

We all watched in silence as the video ended with a shot of the entranceway to Constance/St. Jude's, and after Evey closed the message Blair let out of a huff of anger.

"Gossip girl 2.0? Seriously?!" She exclaimed as Chuck laid a calming hand on her shoulder.

"We'll explain to you all about her later." He said with finality before rushing us off to the awaiting limo.

Aside from some minor patches of traffic, we made it to the Waterside Plaza in record time.

"Don't forget that you have your piano lesson with Isabel today after school." Tristan reminded her as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

I spotted Margot from the corner of my eye and quickly got out of the car to flag her down.

"Hey, I'm so glad you're here!" She said.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing much, aside from the fact that I may end up with a single sheet of notes for the whole week. Kitty is so damn boring." She complained, glancing at her younger sister who was now listening to every word that came out of Bea's mouth with rapt attention.

"Why don't you study the both of them? I mean, you can get twenty four hours worth of observation time from Bea at school, and you can compare Kitty's behavior when they're together and when they're separate." I suggested.

"That's a great idea! I don't know why I---" Margot was interrupted by the honking of the limousine.

"Let's go, Yale! We're going to be late!" Evey yelled.

Both Margot and I rolled our eyes at how bossy my niece was.

"You guys remember my best friend Margot, right?" I asked when the two of us walked up to the car.

Eve gave a curt nod before yanking me into the vehicle. Viola introduced herself with a handshake, and Tristan gave my friend a crooked smile in recognition.

"Sorry to cut the chit chat, but we have to leave. I'm sure Yale will call you later today." Evangeline said before barking at the driver to get back up to 93rd.

* * *

"God, Eve, how can you eat all that?" Clarice asked, her face scrunched up in disgust.

Once the limo had stopped at the iron gates of the Prep schools, Evey had calmed down enough to once again enjoy the rest of the box of doughnuts. She and Viola had each finished one tres leches before Evey's pack of minions descended upon us. They sat in the stone benches around us in the school courtyard, and they all watched as the undisputed Queen of Constance Billiard took bite after bite of the breakfast food.

"Soon you won't be able to fit into your mom's designs."

Evey quirked a brow as she popped the last bit of the Valrhona Chocolate donut into her mouth.

"It's so sweet that you're concerned, but you really don't need to be. Basses do what no one else can, and that includes eating donuts and not gaining weight." She replied in the same snide tone I hear her mother use frequently.

With that, Evey stood from her seat on the stone table and entwined her arm with Viola's before strutting up the few steps of the main entrance way and disappearing in the hallways of the school.


	8. Into the Wild :part 2: Drama Drama Drama

**AN:** Wow, how long did it take me to update? Holy crap. I apologize. The second half of 2009 was awful, and I plan to be better this new year [consider it my New Year's Resolution!]. This chapter serves more as a way of introducing the real drama of Yale's little story arc. The next chapter will delve deeper into what's going on, and provide more insight, I promise.

Happy reading and please review!

**---**

**Chapter Eight: Into the Wild: Drama Drama Drama**

---

"_The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about." - _Oscar Wilde

---

_Monday, March 12, 2029_

It was nice to see that some things never changed: the boys of St. Jude's still smoked hash outside the entrance gate, the girls still gathered in small packs on the random tables and benches in the courtyard, and everyone still turned stopped and acknowledged teen royalty whenever they made themselves known.

"She's so dramatic." Tristan said with a crooked smile and a roll of his eyes after Evey and Viola made their way into the main building of the school.

"Come on, class is going to start soon and Mr. Farrand is an asshole to anyone who's late."

As we walked down the boy's half of the school, I couldn't help but feel like I was with the president of Alpha Delta Phi (again) and we were walking down the hall of the _Haus_*. It didn't help that Tristan towered over everyone else, and being the courteous boy that Blair raised him to be, he gave them all a quick eyebrow quirk of acknowledgement before walking past them.

"There you are, Bass! I thought you decided to ditch me for that exchange student… again." a voice exclaimed the moment we stepped into the classroom.

It was Christian Ellison, son of the third richest man in the country and Tristan's right-hand-man. The two had met years ago when Christian's father brought him along for a business meeting with Chuck. The two had immediately hit it off, and Blair was relieved that her son finally had a male friend (the other boys were more like man-servants).

"What's got you all worked up, Ellison? Is Daddy visiting his sole heir soon?" Tristan joked.

"Don't even get me started on that, Tris." He replied with a brief glare before shifting gears and settling his cornflower blue eyes on me.

"Now what have I done to deserve to be in the presence of your lovely aunt, T?"

Tristan rolled his eyes at his best friend's lame attempts at flirting before he sat down beside him and explained my project. I took the seat next to him right as the bell rang. Immediately, Farrand jumped into the day's lesson, and I watched silently as Tristan took out his notebook and pen and scribbled the occasional note.

"Now who could tell me the definition of the derivative of a function _f_ at a point _x_?"

Farrand stared his class down as they stayed silent until Tristan threw his pen down onto his desk and closed his notebook. He answered in that snide-and-bored tone that was a family signature while he packed up his things, and then proceeded to lean back in his seat and stare blankly at the clock above the dry-erase board.

"Very good, Mr. Bass." Farrand said before going continuing his lecture, twitching with annoyance at the fact that my nephew had already mentally checked-out of his class.

---

"I can't believe I waste an hour everyday in that class." Christian said as we left the room.

"I don't know about that, Chris. You actually looked a little confused." I taunted.

"Well we can't all be the boy wonder, now can we?" He replied with a laugh and a shoulder bump to Tristan.

They escorted me to the Constance Billard half of the building, and we met up with Evey and Viola at Evey's locker.

"What are you doing here, Ellison?" Evey asked in that annoyed tone of voice I knew she learned from her mother.

"Dropping off this ever-resplendent creature, of course." He replied with a sly smile while he draped one arm over my shoulders.

I scoffed at his second pathetic attempt at a pass.

"I'm not into pedophilia, Christian." I said as I shrugged off his arm.

"But baby, I'm all man where it counts."

"Okay, you need to stop, man. You're just being gross now." Tristan said.

The boys and Viola laughed while Evey's mouth turned down into a scowl.

"You are a heinous and disgusting pig, Christian Ellison." She said as she gave him a sharp poke to his solar plexus with her index finger.

"Aww Princess, don't be jealous…"

"Like _I_ would want _you_!"

Tristan, Viola, and I exchanged wide-eyed looks as the two continued to bicker. Ever since Christian had moved here two years ago, Evey had seemingly been in a constant state of annoyance with him. He didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest whenever they were within each other's proximity, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy ruffling her feathers.

"Alright Evey, let's retract the claws and head to class." Viola said as she pulled her friend away.

Evangeline's second period class was Honors European history, and she had it with Ms. Loretta Reed, who had been my favorite teacher during my time at Constance. Class was just about to start when we slipped into the room and sat in the two curiously empty seats right at the front.

"I had Winnie save you a seat beside me." Evey said as she took her preferred seat.

The next three hours were a mix of enduring mind-numbing boredom and vigilant observation making. I had determined that Evey was Blair incarnate when it came to school. I grew up on stories of how my sister had a flawless GPA from the moment she went to kindergarten (thanks for raising the bar to new heights, sis), and was absolutely ruthless when it came to academic competition. During her fourth period chemistry class I watched as she glared down a classmate who dared to finish the day's experiment before her. Thankfully, Tristan wasn't as bad. Yes, he was also a complete nerd, but he never felt the need to flaunt his academic prowess. Instead, he passed time by emailing the caterers who were providing the food for Victrola's reopening and shopping online.

"What are you going to buy?" I asked him when we were in his third period AP Lit. class.

"A new pair of riding boots. Christian and I are going to Stone Meadow next weekend to play a low goal game, and I need a new pair of boots." He replied.

Tristan was an avid polo player, and had been so since he was five. Chuck likes to say that his son's love for horses and equine-dependent sports all sprung from the God-awful expensive rocking horse he bought for him when he was a baby, but Blair would say that it was a Bass trait to like horses (she would then mumble something obscene about them riding hard and putting away wet). Either way, Tristan owned a stable full of horses, a majority of which were polo ponies. They were kept in their home in East Hampton, Stone Meadow Farms, along with the other children's horses.

"Are you even going to try to pay attention?" I asked, noticing that yet another one of his teachers was glaring at him for blatantly ignoring lecture.

"Why should I? It's a literature class, Yale, you read the book, you stew about the themes, then you regurgitate the book in essay form. Besides, if anybody's going to be doing any searching for lost time, it'll be me. This class is such a waste of time." Tristan replied with a brief glance at the tome sitting on his desk.

He was right, of course, and I was pretty sure that Roman had read _À la recherché du temps perdu _to his grandchildren sometime during their childhood in an effort to not only saturate them with French culture, but to also celebrate the homosexual themes in Proust's work.

Fifth period proved to be the most entertaining class. It was Advanced drama and Tristan, Evey, and Viola were in it together. The play that they were going to perform in the spring was "Twelfth Night", and Tristan was set the play Orsino while Evey was Olivia and Viola was, well, Viola. I couldn't resist laughing while watching Tristan act as if he was in love with his sister, and it was even funnier watching Evangeline fawn over her cross-dressing best friend.

"I'm glad that you're getting a laugh out of this," Viola said with a small smile as she took the seat next to me.

"There's nothing like dressing like a man and running around pretending to be your brother. What I'm wondering though is why Tristan isn't playing Sebastian. You two have the same brown hair and blue eyes, why make it awkward for the majority of the play? At least if he was Sebastian the icky incestuousness would only be at the end."

Viola let out a small scoff of amusement before answering.

"That's what I was thinking, but Miss Prescott insists that Tristan has to be Orsino. She says that any other role would be 'doing a disservice to his great talent.' It's more likely that she wants to use his pretty-boy ways to guarantee a full house on opening night; I can just see the hoards of girls in the front row, flinging their Aubade panties at him while he tries to woo his sister."

"What's this about lingerie and wooing sisters?" Tristan asked as he plopped himself down onto the seat on my other side.

"Nothing, other than the fact that your drama teacher is using you to ensure the attendance of every girl in the school, and the likely possibility of you being avalanched in their discarded underwear once you wow them with your magnificent skills."

"Been there, done that." Tristan replied with a wicked looking smirk.

"You're disgusting," Viola said as she shook her head in disapproval.

"Now, now, Vi, no need to be catty. We both know that you're my number one." He said.

I felt like I was watching the most intense game of tennis as I looked back and forth at the both of them. I didn't know if Tristan was joking with what he said, but the earnest look he was giving Vi convinced me that he wasn't. Viola seemed to have realized his sincerity the same time I did, and the moment she did she bolted from her seat and made her way backstage.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" I asked as we both watched Viola's head of long brown hair disappear behind the stage curtains.

He leaned back on the cushioned theatre seat and covered his eyes with his forearm before letting out a long drawn sigh.

"Not even in the least."

---

By lunch it had seemed as if the tense moment between Tristan and Viola never happened. The two of them walked on either side of Evey as they made their way to the Met, where they met up with the merry band of followers. Clarice and the rest of the girls quickly found their seats near the bottom of the second set of steps while Evey and Tristan sat at the top of the second landing.

"What's for lunch today, Evey?" I asked when I noticed that they didn't bring any food.

"It's Halal day, Yale. Thiago is getting us our food, in fact, he should have been here already." Evey replied, turning to her friend and asking where her butler was.

"He's just around the block, E, don't worry." Viola said as she made her way down the steps.

A minute later a tall, excessively burly man came bustling down the block carrying a bright yellow bag.

"É aqui seu almoço, meu querido."** He said as he handed the bag to her.

"Obrigado, Thiago." Viola replied as she gave the man a quick hug before making her way towards us and handing out the plates of food.

"Is this from fifty-third and sixth?" I asked as I took off the cardboard cover and found the familiar chicken and gyros combination.

"Mmmhmm." Evey replied as she chewed a mouthful of pita and cabbage.

"But they don't open until seven-thirty."

"For the rest of the world they open at seven-thirty, but I can get food from them whenever I want. My grandfather was good friends with the owner's father and he knows how much I love my gyros." Viola explained as she drowned her plate in the delicious yogurt sauce.

"Heart attack on a plate, again, Vi?" Clarice asked from her place below us.

"Life's too short to be eating salads all the time, Clarice."

"Well I sure hope that you'll still be able to fit into Mrs. Bass's new designs." the other girl said snidely.

"God, Clarice, stop reminding us about that! You sound like my grandmother!" Evey exclaimed before shoveling another mouthful of food into her mouth.

---

"Where is that idiot? He was supposed to be here by the time Arthur got here." Evey said as we waited for Tristan next to the limo.

It was already after school and their shoot with Aaron was scheduled to start in half an hour.

Midway through lunch Tristan got a phone call and decided to ditch his last two classes with the promise that he'd be back at the school by the time classes let out.

"Relax, E, your uncle isn't going to care if we're late." Viola said as she leaned against the car.

"Uncle Aaron may not care, but you know Maman is going to go ape if she finds out we're late because that means we'll be late for dinner."

Dinner was _The_ thing my sister firmly established with her family. She hated when it was pushed to a later time (I remember hearing her screaming at Chuck to leave the office when I was younger), but she hated having a family member missing even more. Of course there are times when they don't have dinner all together, but unless you had given her a forewarning as to your absence/late arrival, Blair will send blood hounds to trace you down and give you the scolding of a lifetime.

"There he is," I said as I saw the figure of my nephew two blocks down.

It was always easy to spot Tristan in a crowd, he was usually a few inches taller than everyone else, which was strange considering neither side of his family had very tall people. Mother is 5'10", which was on the tall side, and Chuck says that his father was 6'1", but Tristan topped off at 6'4". If it wasn't for his obvious resemblance to Bart, Chuck would have continued to tease Blair about the possibility of a milk-man scenario.

"Sorry I'm late." Tristan said as he sauntered over to us.

Only a Bass would have the gall to _saunter_ when he was running late.

"And _where_, exactly, did you go?" Evey asked as she crossed her arms and waited for an answer.

"That's none of your business, now are we going to go or what? We're running behind."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Just get in the damned car, Evangeline."

---

"That's perfect, Evey. Keep giving me more of that. Yeah, that's it."

Listening to my brother talk to his models while conducting a photo shoot was the main reason why I never wanted to spend any time with him while he was working. He sounded like a dirty old man with a side of porn-director, and it was a million times more disturbing now that he was photographing his niece.

"That's why I always bring something, _anything_, to listen to."

"Excuse me?" I asked, snapping out of my daze and turning to the girl who sat next to me.

"The way Aaron is talking to E. It's the reason why I have to have my headphones blasting music loud enough to almost make me deaf… I usually end up with that disgusted facial expression you're sporting right now if I have to listen to him talk dirty."

I laughed at Viola's astute observation while continuing to watch Evangeline pose in front of the camera. One hour had already elapsed in the shoot, and all that was left was to get Evey's shots done. Tristan was the first to get his photos done, and I honestly didn't understand how him appearing nude in a tub would help promote a clothing line, but I stopped questioning Aaron's creative vision a long time ago.

"Blair's going to be over the moon when she sees how good these photos turn up." I said, breaking comfortable lapse of silence Viola and I had fallen into.

"Then Aaron will be happy. I mean, that's all he's after, isn't it?"

I glanced at Viola from the corner of my eye, watching as she rested her head on the back of the overstuffed couch we both sat on and stared blankly at the ceiling.

"You noticed that, huh?"

She turned to me and gave me a wry smile.

"It's not that hard to miss."

And it was true. My brother had been a little bit obsessed with my sister for years now, which makes me want to cry foul and run to the nearest shrink. It was the main reason why Blair managed to get, according to everyone in the art world, one of "the greatest photographers of the generation" to shoot each and every one of her clothing lines' campaigns. No matter where he was in the world, Aaron would always come back in time for the next fashion season. I knew I wasn't the only one who had noticed his strange devotion to Blair, but no one said anything out loud. What could Daddy or Mother say? Actually, I knew what Mother would say if it didn't lead up to mortifying _everyone_ (the words "Appalachian hillbillies" come to mind).

It was even more obvious than ever last year when the whole Waldorf-Rose-Van der Humphrey-Bass family celebrated Thanksgiving at Stone Meadow. I was with Blair, Evey, and Bea in the kitchen helping (i.e. sitting and watching) Harold and Roman with the three pies they were baking when Aaron arrived. He had given everyone the obligatory hug, but he hugged Blair a little bit longer, and I swear on my vintage Cartier rose pendant that he even sniffed her hair.

Still, Blair doesn't seem to have noticed. Either that, or she chose to ignore it, and instead, exploited his feelings for her by making him do her bidding. The more I thought about it, the latter was the much more likely option.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Already have." She said with an impish smile.

"Don't be a smart ass."

"Well then fire away."

"What's up with Evey and Christian?" I asked, remembering their little exchange earlier.

"What do you mean?" Viola replied, suddenly sitting up straight.

"You know, Evey rarely lets her feathers get ruffled, and when they do, it isn't done with a single comment. It was like she thought he had cooties or something."

"More like she wants some of his cooties, but he'd never let her have any of it."

"Oh." _Oh._

"Yeah… don't tell her that I told you. She's embarrassed by how she, Manhattan's social butterfly, is pining away for him and he won't give her the time of day." She said with something akin to empathy.

"It's even worse when you consider the fact that he slums it with people like Kossandra and¾"

Before she could finish her sentence the trill of her phone, along with Evey and Tristan's phone, went off in a repeat of this morning. I watched as Viola opened the video message and soon the voice of the resurrected gossip girl permeated the air.

"I suppose that its only fitting that the top of the totem pole is the one to get the gossip ball rolling, and in this case I mean the King of St. Jude's."

The video was a bit shaky, but it was undeniable who was the focus of this blast.

"Tristan Bass was seen earlier frantically sucking the lip gloss off of Margaret Johnson."

_Oh. My. God._ There was my nephew and Margot, going at each other by what looked like the archway of the National Academy Museum.

"If I'm not mistaken, Miss Margaret graduated from Dominican Academy a few years ago, and is besties with her paramour's aunt, our own former Queen Yale Rose. Oh, what a tangled web you weave, T, but kudos for catching a cougar. Your godfather would be proud."

The video ended just as Tristan dragged Margot into the limo that had just rolled into the shot, and I quickly turned to where the teen Casanova was sitting. He had awoken from his nap to the sound of the video message on his phone and now looked like a deer in the headlights.

"Would you like to tell me what you were doing with my best friend, Tris?" I asked.

He ignored my murderous glare, and that's when I noticed that his gaze was connected to the silent girl who sat next to me.

"I have to go." Viola said before practically running out the door, not slowing down even when Evey called out after her.

"What the hell happened?" Evangeline exclaimed once Viola slammed the door of the studio shut.

She was standing in front of Tristan with arms akimbo while he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I have no fucking idea." I replied, all I knew was that this was going to be one hell of a week.

---

*the _Haus_ is the building where the members of the Alpha Delta Phi (ADF), Columbia chapter, live. It's located on 523 W 114 St. NY, NY.

** "Here is your lunch, my darling."

"Thank you, Thiago."


End file.
